


Wide Eyed Dreamers

by PinkGerberDaisies



Series: Home Sweet Home [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Miscarriage, Miscommunication, Series of One Shots, Some adult themes, Teenage Pregnancy, Teenagers, Vignettes, eventual angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 101,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGerberDaisies/pseuds/PinkGerberDaisies
Summary: A series of one-shots that make up the prequel to my story Coming Home to You.Or: How Scott and Tessa become childhood friends, then teenagers in love (and beyond).





	1. August 26, 1996

**Author's Note:**

> As I was writing Coming Home to You, I kept getting distracted by little blurbs and images from their childhood/teenage/separation years. This is a place for me to write down all of those thoughts and little one-shots. I hope you enjoy peeking into this expansion of that universe. 
> 
> Summaries can be found at the beginning of each chapter, and ratings will vary (once they're older, obviously).
> 
> Title comes from the song Sovereign Light Cafe by Keane:  
> I didn't know I was finding out how I'd be torn from you  
> When we talked about things we were gonna do  
> We were wide eyed dreamers and wiser too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Scott and Tessa meet for the first time and a friendship is born.
> 
> Rating: G

**we stick together and we see it through**

 

**_Monday August 26, 1996_ **

**_Ilderton, Ontario_ **

 

Scott loves the first day of school. He loves seeing his friends (even though they were together almost every day over the summer), loves meeting new people (rare in Ilderton, but it can happen), and especially loves recess (he also really likes math, but that’s a secret).

Recess is the best because they get to play games and, thanks to being the youngest of three boys, Scott has a competitive streak a mile long that those games help to satisfy. He likes to play, and he likes to win.

Which is how he came to be standing confidently in the middle of one long Red Rover line - a game he had initiated with enthusiasm - staring down at the kids in the opposite line like they’re his mortal enemies.

“Red Rover, Red Rover, send Eric right over!” The other team chants, and Scott grits his teeth and smiles.

“Go between Tammy and Meagan. They’re the weakest spot in their defense right now.” He mutters to his best friend out of the side of his mouth, and Eric nods imperceptibly.

Scott watches with a triumphant smirk as Eric, who had hit a growth spurt over the summer (a fact that Scott’s trying really hard not to be jealous of) barrels through the other team, breaking Tammy and Meagan’s hands apart with ease. Eric grabs Meagan’s hand and pulls her over to join their team – chest puffed out and an extra swagger in his step - but Scott knows the game is still far from over, and his focus has already moved on to what needs to happen next.

“Red Rover, Red Rover –“ Scott chants along with his team, but his eye catches on the tiny girl sitting alone on the grass under a nearby tree, reading a book and eating apple slices. Her freckled face all scrunched up in concentration, an evenly matched braid resting on each shoulder, bangs cut straight across her forehead. There’s something about her that is distracting, but Scott shakes his head and focuses on the game.

He only makes it a few more rounds before his conscience, incessantly whispering _invite her to play_ , forces him to say to Eric, “I’ll be right back,” and wander over to her – sacrificing his team’s need for his strategical expertise in favor of talking to the girl.

“Hi.” He says brightly, but the girl doesn't look up or even so much as twitch, and his smile turns into a little frown. Clearing his throat loudly, Scott tries again, “Hi, I’m Scott. What’s your name?”

It works that time, probably because he practically shouted at her, and she looks up at him with half an apple between her lips and the biggest green eyes he’s ever seen.

“Um… hi.” She says after pulling the apple away with a crunch and quickly covering her mouth while she chews. The chunk is still too big when she hastily swallows, if her wince is anything to go by. “I’m Tessa.”

“Do you want to come play with us?” Scott gestures to the game, noticing the way Eric keeps glancing over at them in confusion but ignoring his friend's inquiring looks.

“Me?” She seems genuinely surprised by the invitation, and anxiously eyes the group of kids still happily running into each other across the field.

“Yeah. Come on, it’ll be fun.” He looks down at the book she’s reading propped up on her knees, “Not that _Amelia Bedelia_ isn’t great, but we could use another player.”

They actually don’t need another player, and Scott’s certain that this little twig of a girl is only going to be a liability, but maybe if he puts her between him and Eric he can avoid creating too much of a hole in his solid defense.

“Okay. I guess so…” She gently sets her book down and stands up carefully, brushing dirt and grass off of her pants.

“Awesome. Let’s go.”

There. Now when his mother asks if he made any new friends at school he can say yes, and when she points to the embroidery above the fridge that reads, _How did you show kindness today?_ , he can answer honestly and to her satisfaction.

 

The first time Tessa gets called on to be sent over, Scott’s certain that she’s a goner. The other team definitely picked her because she’s so small and probably the easiest to defend against. He intends to lean over and give her advice on her best chance, not that she really has one, but the second her name leaves the other team’s lips she takes off like a shot – so fast that nobody has time to prepare – and she blows through their defenses, breaking the chain and winning them another team member.

Scott has to pick his jaw up off the floor alongside everyone else. Apparently he'd underestimated her.

         

The other team doesn’t call on her again, but even so they’re losing terribly and down to only two team members. Scott can feel victory within his fingertips, and the prospect makes his mouth water.

Unfortunately, one of those players is the kid they all call The Tank, a massive boy whose real name is Shirley (a family name, apparently, but he’d knock your lights out if you ever called him that). He’s objectively terrifying, and a bit of a jerk.

Scott’s team has no choice but to call him over, and he watches with no small amount of apprehension as The Tank stalks back and forth, looking at their line for the weakest link.

If they capture him, they win the game, but he’s almost impossible to defend against – which is why they had avoided calling him until now.

Scott swallows guiltily when the boy stops in front of Tessa with a wide, toothy grin. _He’ll flatten her_ , Scott thinks, and then he’s going to have to explain to her family how he got their daughter killed just because he didn’t like to see her sitting alone.

And he can’t even imagine what he’ll tell his own mother.

“How did you show kindness today, Scottie?”

“Well, Mom, I turned an innocent little girl into a pancake.”

But Tessa, whose face has gone impossibly white, switches her hold on Scott’s hand so that their fingers are hooked together – squeezing so tightly that his hand starts to go numb – and plants her feet, digging her heels into the ground (literally, Scott can see the grass bunch up around her feet as she twists them).

She shuts her eyes, her whole face scrunching up in preparation and tilting down towards her chest, and The Tank charges.

He slams into them with enough force that Scott expects to find his arm completely ripped from his body, but somehow – impossibly – Tessa’s hand didn’t leave his.

Whispers can be heard all around them from the other kids.

“She didn’t break.”

“Oh my gosh, _how_!?”

“Is she even alive?”

Scott pries his own eyes open to find The Tank stepping back, looking both furious and begrudgingly impressed.

Still standing by his side, with tears streaming quietly down her cheeks, Tessa just looks at the giant boy calmly and says, “We win.”

 

* * *

 

 

Later that evening Scott walks up the steps of the nice grey house with its wrap-around porch, a house he’d passed on his bike a million times without really thinking about who lived inside, feeling more nervous than he's felt in a long time. Now, thanks to his reliably informed mother, he knows that it’s the Virtue’s house, aka the house belonging to the little girl he’d almost gotten killed today, and he’s come bearing warm chocolate chip cookies and an apology in the hopes that Mr. Virtue - a lawyer - won't sue him for all that he's worth (ten dollars, a hockey stick, and a modest baseball card collection).

“Good afternoon.” A kind looking woman with short blonde hair greets him, looking curiously back and forth between him and the plate of cookies.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Virtue. My name is Scott and I’ve come to see Tessa.”

“Oh, did you hear about what happened at school? That’s so sweet of you. Come on in.”

Scott follows her into the house, taking in how _clean_ everything is. Even though his mom makes him and his brothers do chores every Saturday, their house still ends up looking like a tornado zone by Friday.

“Tessa’s upstairs resting. Let me put some of those cookies on a smaller plate and you can take them up to her. If I let you take the whole thing she’ll eat them all.” Mrs. Virtue says with a little laugh, placing a few of the gooey cookies on a small white porcelain plate – so much nicer than the old Santa Claus tray he’d brought them on.

An older girl who looks kind of like Tessa waves at him from her spot at the kitchen table - geometry homework spread out in front of her - and Scott waves back.

Mrs. Virtue leads him up the staircase and around the corner to a door with _Tessa’s Room_ written on it in swirling letters – something Scott’s surprised to see, given how spotless everything else is. He wonders if Tessa painted it on there without permission.

“Tessa, honey, you have a friend here to see you.”

“A what?” Her voice comes from inside, sounding genuinely confused.

“A friend. From school.” Her mom explains, opening the door wide and gesturing for him to enter.

Scott looks around the room as he walks inside, observing the light purple walls and white furniture and pink and yellow bedspread. Everything is so much brighter and more colorful than the rest of the house, but equally as clean. Even her Barbie Dolls in the corner are all neatly put away in clear plastic tubs. The messiest thing is the cork board on the wall above her bed full of pictures and magazine clippings.

“Oh, it’s you. Hi.” She says, taking in his sudden appearance with wide eyes. As soon as her mom leaves she asks nervously, “What are you doing here?”

Scott swallows and walks towards her with the plate extended, “I wanted to say I’m sorry for almost-“

“Are those cookies!?” She cuts him off, shyness apparently forgotten as she jumps out of her bed and runs over – her left hand hanging limply by her side in its brand new bright pink cast.

“Yeah. Chocolate chip.”

“You’re forgiven. Thank you.” She takes the plate with a happy smile that makes her eyes sparkle, and Scott feels something warm settle inside his chest.

“How’s your wrist? What did the doctor say?” He follows her over to the window seat and sits down next to her, grinning at she gets chocolate all over her fingers in her haste to eat – so different from how careful she’d been with the apples earlier.

“Dr. Morgan said I have a greenstick fracture in my wrist.”

“A green what?”

"It means my bone didn’t break completely, it’s just a crack. Because I’m a kid my bones are still soft and flexible, so it broke kind of like a baby branch on a tree. I have to wear the cast for six weeks.” She explains matter-of-factly, almost as if she’s reciting word for word what the doctor had said.

"Are you going to have people sign it?” Scott asks curiously. When Charlie had broken his arm playing street hockey two years ago he’d had all his friends sign the cast and draw pictures and Scott had been kind of jealous of all the attention.

“Am I supposed to?” Tessa quirks an eyebrow at him, and Scott nods.

“Most people do, I think.”

“Okay.” She shrugs. “Do you want to be the first?”

"Sure.”

She walks over to her desk and finds a Sharpie, handing it to him and sticking out her left arm expectantly. Scott supports it gently – careful not to accidentally hurt her – and signs his name in his own messy script in a line trailing backwards from her ring finger. Adding a smiley face for good measure.

“Thank you!” She grins at him happily, putting the marker back in its assigned place, and before Scott knows what he’s doing he finds himself speaking.

"Do you want to come to my birthday party on Saturday?”

She’s a whole grade younger than he is, tiny, and a _girl_ \- by all rights he shouldn’t want to invite her or be friends with her, and Eric will probably tease him mercilessly, (“She’s a _girl_ Scott, she has _cooties”),_ but there’s something about her that makes him want to know more. And any girl who can take down The Tank, breaking her own wrist in the process, is someone he wants to know better.

Tessa smiles, suddenly shy again at his invitation and tugging awkwardly at one of her braids, before nodding quickly, “Okay.”

Scott grins at her and she grins back with slightly pink cheeks, and he thinks that even if Eric’s right and he _does_ catch cooties from her, it will be worth it.

 


	2. November 1996 / February 1997

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A skating lesson, a fight, rigged snowballs, and a duel.
> 
> Or: How Eric and Tessa become friends. 
> 
> Rating: G

**one and one and one is three**

 

**_November 17, 1996_ **

**_Ilderton Skating Club_ **

 

“Eric’s going to meet us here.” Scott says one morning as he carefully teaches Tessa how to lace up a pair of battered brown ice skates - borrowed from the arena skate rental with Mrs. Moir's permission. He’d been appalled last week when she’d told him that she’d never been ice skating and was nervous about embarrassing herself on the upcoming school field trip, and had demanded that she meet him at the rink at nine o’clock sharp Sunday morning for her first lesson.

Demanded, not requested. But Tessa didn't mind. Honestly, being friends with Scott so far has consisted mostly of him grabbing her hand and dragging her from one activity to another, and Tessa, despite the fact that she’s now famous at the school for her speed, can hardly keep up.

But she wants to.

He’s the first real friend she’s ever had and since he’s friends with everybody, suddenly now Tessa is too by default. When Scott had suggested that people should sign her cast two months ago, she'd secretly worried that nobody would want to, but by the end of her first day back in class almost the entire pink surface had turned black from signatures and drawings.

It’s been a dazzling, overwhelming whirlwind for her little seven year old brain to comprehend, and why some nine year old boy with crazy hair and an even crazier personality decided to befriend her remains a complete mystery, but she’s not about to complain. Scott has rapidly become her best friend. 

His other best friend Eric, however, has not warmed up to her. In fact, Tessa would say he’s been outright _hostile_. A word they learned last week that means unfriendly or unkind. So the news that he’ll be joining them for her first skating lesson is not exactly something that makes Tessa jump for joy.

If she even could jump, because she can’t. She isn’t even sure how a person’s supposed to balance at all on thin metal blades, but Scott seems to have no trouble and Tessa’s determined to do it if he can.

"Eric doesn’t like me.” She tells him, wobbling a little as he helps her up to her feet.

“Does too.” Scott shoots back, not letting go of her hands until he’s certain that she isn’t going to topple over.

“No he doesn’t. He never talks to me when we play. He just… gives me the stink eye. Like I stole his favorite toy.”  

“That’s because you’re a girl and he thinks you have cooties.” Scott makes a funny face, earning a giggle from Tessa, and takes her hand again to help her towards the rink.

“Don’t be silly. Cooties don’t exist.” Tessa states (she’d asked her mom to make sure). “He doesn’t like me because I’m friends with you.”

“That’s not true. He likes you just fine. Now come on, let’s get you on the ice.”

She’s about to argue back (Eric _doesn't_ like her, she's certain of it), but the words die in her throat the second her blades touch the ice and nearly slip out from under her – her hands shooting out to find some sort of tenuous grip on the wall next to her.

“I don’t think I should be doing this.” She whimpers, her voice shaky and her feet even shakier. “I don’t think I’m meant to be a skater.”

“Come on, Tess, you’ve just barely started. Nobody’s perfect on their first try. I fell down like a hundred times.”

"Did you really?” Her voice goes higher as her chest fills with hope. Maybe everyone sucks and it really does just take practice. 

“… No.” He laughs when she makes a face at him, still inching along the side of the rink – too terrified to let go for even a second. “But I did fall down. It’s not so bad, I promise, and if you _do_ fall then I’ll be right here to pick you back up.”

Tessa pauses her incremental movements, only a couple meters away from where she started, "Do you promise?”

“Yes. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Stick a needle in your eye?” Tessa finishes the oath for him, and Scott nods solemnly, making a cross over his heart with his right hand.

“Okay. Then I promise I’ll try.”

“Cool. Come on.” He grabs her hands, including the one still fiercely supporting her, and Tessa shrieks loudly as he starts skating backwards and dragging her across the ice.

“Scott, no! Stop! It’s too soon!”

“You’ll never learn if you stay by the boards the whole time. Just follow my lead. I’ve got you.” He pulls her along, giving her pointers on how to move her feet (which Tessa struggles to follow -  _move her feet? How can she when they're so wobbly?_ ) and uttering an almost constant stream of encouragement. 

“Hey, Scott!” Eric yells from across the rink, announcing his arrival with a big wave for his best friend and a complete cold shoulder for Tessa. He skates over towards them with long, confident strokes across the ice that fill Tessa with envy.

“Hey!” Scott yells before turning back to her. “Keep going around – don’t touch the boards – you're doing great! I’ll be right back.”

She watches Scott skate away, looking even more comfortable on the ice than Eric, and her heart sinks. Her hands fill empty now without his keeping her upright and her feet a million times more unstable than they already were.

But she refuses to be left behind. She _will_ master this. Glaring down at the offending sheet of ice beneath her, Tessa mutters, “You won’t beat me.”

Scott told her not to use the wall – or boards, as he’d called it – for support, and so she won’t. She’s never gone against a teacher and she isn’t about to start now. He probably won’t be grading her, but she’s determined to get top marks anyway – if only from herself.

She moves slowly, every once in a while getting hit by a passing gust of wind that sends her hair fluttering as either Scott or Eric speed past her – the two of them alternating between racing and scooping up shreds of ice to throw at each other – until eventually she feels comfortable enough to try picking up some speed.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t occur to her until after she starts moving fairly well that Scott never told her how to _stop_.

Eric skates right into her path, laughing at something Scott said, and before Tessa has a chance to call out a warning she runs right into him – knocking them both off their feet in a spectacular crash.

“Ow! What the heck was that? Can’t you watch where you’re going?” He sits up, rubbing his elbow and looking so angry that Tessa recoils from him.

“I’m sorry!” Annoyingly, she can feel tears forming at the corners of her eyes - both from Eric and the pain in her left hip where she fell. 

“You could have broken my legs or my arms! Are you blind?! Jeez, if you can’t skate without running into people you shouldn’t do it at all!”

“It was an accident! It’s only my first day.” Her voice shakes with unshed tears as Eric continues speaking, back on his feet now and towering over her. Scott didn't tell her how to get up on the ice, either, so she's forced to sit there and take it.

“Well it should be your last. You’re terrible.”

“What’s going on over here? Are you guys okay?” Scott asks, coming to a stop right next to Tessa and reach down to help her up - an act that earns him a grateful hug.

“Your little tag-along girlfriend almost killed me.” Eric spits out, holding up his bruised elbow for Scott's inspection.

His accusation stokes her own anger, and Tessa forces her tears away as she argues, “I’m not his girlfriend, and you got in my way!”

“I wouldn’t have been in your way if you could actually skate instead of moving around like an ugly chicken!”

“Eric! That’s not nice!” Scott yells at the taller boy, thumping him on the shoulder. “You need to say sorry.”

He folds his arms over his chest, looking down at both of them with frown, “I’m not saying sorry to her.”

“Well I’m not saying sorry to YOU either! You scruffy looking nerf herder!” Tessa stomps her foot, forgetting what she's standing on and nearly sending herself careening back towards the ice again, but Scott's arm shoots out easily to catch her and keep her balanced. 

“Nice.” Scott high fives her, earning a glare and a thump from Eric.

“Don’t take her side!”

"Dude, it was a Star Wars quote!”

“Ugh. Whatever. If you want to spend your day hanging out with this klutz, fine. I’m going home to play Star Fox on my Nintendo.”

Tessa watches Scott’s face transform into a mixture of disappointment and longing, clearly wanting to follow his friend and play whatever game it was that Eric just mentioned. But he doesn't follow him off the ice - instead staying solidly by her side. 

“You can go with him, you know. It’s okay.”

Scott looks at the spot where Eric disappeared for a second, before sighing and facing her, “No… I promised I’d teach you how to skate. I can play Nintendo any time.”

“Really, Scott, it’s fine.” Guilt settles low in her stomach. They'd been having such a nice time before she ruined it all with her clumsiness. 

“Hey, did I swear an oath or what?” He smiles at her, taking her hand and starting to lead her around again, and Tessa smiles tentatively back.

“You did.”

“Then let’s get back to work. I think your next lesson will be how to stop.”    

 

* * *

  

**_February  5, 1997_ **

**_Ilderton School_ **

 

“Listen up everybody! We’re going to split into two teams. I’m going to be the captain of the blue team, and The Tank is captain of the red team.” Gavin calls out, his voice somehow coming out loud and clear despite his two knitted scarves and bright yellow Cheerios beanie that covers half his head.

A cold front had swept in over the weekend, turning the snow from a fine powder into something denser and more compact. Meaning it was the perfect consistency for a snowball fight. Which, Tessa had been reliably informed by Scott, was pretty much mandatory to participate in during recess.

“The rules are simple. If you get hit three times, you’re out of the game. First team to get the other one completely out, wins. I’ll pick first – Eric!”

Tessa waits anxiously as the two boys take turns picking players. Surprisingly, The Tank picks Scott on his very first turn despite the animosity between the two of them. She figured he must care more about Scott’s skill than their mutual hatred for each other.

The minute Scott gets picked she crosses her fingers behind her back and thinks of her lucky rabbit’s foot hanging from her backpack. She _really_ wants to get picked for Scott’s team.

“Tessa!” Gavin yells, and she slumps a little bit as she walks over to join the blue team, shrugging her shoulders at Scott who looks equally disappointed. The little head flick he gives her says,  _maybe next time_ , and she nods.

“Why her?” Eric whisper to Gavin, loud enough that pretty much everyone can hear him, and Tessa winces.

“Everybody knows she’s fast.” Gavin explains, “And Scott could never throw anything at her, which is great for us. She’s his weakness.”

That doesn’t sit well with Tessa. She wants to be Scott’s strength, and she is - as long as they're on the same team. Now that they're separated she has a bad feeling something's going to go wrong.

Once everybody has been called and assigned a team, they split up across the field and Gavin counts down from ten and then it’s utter insanity as white balls of ice start flying from every direction. She moves swiftly to get out of the way, happy to prove that Gavin was right - Tessa is fast, and even though she might not have the best aim, nobody has come close to getting her out yet.

Eric, however, seems to have perfect aim as he laughs boisterously (the noise can be heard all across the playground) and hurls snowballs almost like a machine. He hits kids left and right and Tessa can’t help but pause for a moment and be impressed. He’s almost single-handedly taking out the entire enemy line.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches The Tank, who's already been hit twice by Eric (fuming and looking about ready to break the rules and just pummel the kid) dig up a rock and stick it in the middle of his snowball.

“Look out!” Tessa screams, but it’s too late – the angry blonde giant hurls the snowball directly at an unsuspecting Eric, and she knows it’s going to hit him right in the head.

Without thinking, Tessa throws herself in front of Eric – straight into the path of the icy projectile – and takes it right in the face instead. She goes down hard, spraying snow everywhere as she clutches her face where blood has started streaming out. She isn’t sure, but it feels like she’s got a sizable gash across her cheek underneath her right eye. And probably a decent bruise forming.

_She has ballet auditions this week_ , she thinks as she lays there in the reddening snow - looking like something out of a horror film and waiting for someone to tell her if she's lost half her face.

Her mom is going to kill her.

“ _Tessa!”_  She hears Scott scream as he runs towards her, but it’s Eric she sees first – kneeling over her and looking completely terrified. His hands fly everywhere, but don't touch anything – as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt her too by mistake.

“Tess! Oh my gosh, Tess! Are you okay? Why did you do that? Is your face broken? Please say you’re okay!”

She sits up slowly with Eric’s help, her response muffled by her thick, over-sized pink mittens (a Christmas present from her brother Casey). “I’m okay. I don’t _think_ anything’s broken, just bruised.” She prods gently at her face, relieved that it already doesn’t feel as bad as it did a moment ago.

“You moron! You could have blinded her!” Scott yells at The Tank. He's probably a good head shorter than the other boy, but somehow seems just as big while fueled by his protective rage. He shoves ineffectively at the bigger boy’s chest, clearly itching for a fight.  

“I was aiming for Radford! She got in the way. It was an accident.” The Tank pushes Scott back, making him stumble a bit.

“An _accident_!? Tell that to her face! You _hurt_ her!”

“Back off, Moir. She’s fine – look – Radford’s got her.”

Sure enough, Eric had looped an arm underneath her and helped her to her feet, making sure to keep her supported even though she really doesn't need it. Her face was hit, not her legs. But still, she appreciates the gesture.

“I’m going to take you to the nurse’s office, okay?” He says gently, and Tessa is so surprised by his behavior that she just nods and lets him put an arm around her shoulders. 

Somewhere behind them Tessa hears Scott say, "You're nothing but a big bully,  _Shirley_ ," followed by a thunk and some yelling from other kids, and she winces. She can guess what that noise meant. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Eric says quietly while they walk towards the school, oblivious to the way Tessa is busy bemoaning the state of her mittens - completely ruined now from the blood.

“Yes I did. You didn’t see it coming, and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

He pauses mid-stride to hug her, a rare thing from Eric even for people he likes, “You’re the best, Tess. I’m sorry I’ve been so mean.”

“It’s okay.” She says into his shoulder, distracted by the worry that she might be getting blood on his coat. She isn't sure how to handle this new, friendly Eric.

"No it’s not. I was… jealous, I guess.” He pulls away with an awkward little shrug, and Tessa can feel her heart letting go of her anger towards him for the past few months. She was the interloper (a word she'd learned on Jeopardy last night, a show she watches religiously with her family) in his friendship with Scott. She doesn't blame him for not liking her now that she can understand him.

“There isn’t a rule that only two people can be friends, you know.” Tessa teases kindly, feeling like maybe she can do that with him now, “It was the _three_ musketeers, not two.”

“Actually, you’re forgetting D’Artagnan.” Scott joins in, catching up to them and now sporting his own blackening eye (she was right - The Tank had punished him for the use of his real name). “There were technically four.”

The three of them had watched the movie together the previous weekend during one of the snowstorms, making themselves sick on soda and red vines and Mrs. Moir’s molasses cookies. 

"You’re ruining my point.” Tessa shoves Scott's arm, nearly making him trip over the big plastic doormat, and Eric laughs. 

“Sorry.” Scott says with a grin that means he’s not sorry at all. "Are you okay though?" He reaches up to lightly touch her cheek, and Tessa nods her head. 

“So is that what we are now? The Three Musketeers?” Eric asks, easing Tessa into the chair outside the nurse’s office.

“Shouldn’t Tessa technically be Milady?” Scott points out, and Tessa glares as best she can through her increasingly swollen eye.

“Why? Because I’m a girl?" She sticks out her tongue, "I want to be Aramis.”

“Fine. But I’m definitely Athos.” Scott pretends to pull a sword out of a sheath at his waist and swish it around, and Eric does the same - the two boys pretending to duel in the hallway. An epic battle, complete with jumping on the furniture, ensues - making Tessa bust up with laughter.

“Then that makes me Porthos.” Eric states, pretending to stab Scott - who falls to the ground, mortally wounded. 

“All for one?” Tessa asks, happy despite her throbbing cheek, smiling at both boys and sticking out her hand in front of her. 

Scott smirks at Eric and he grins back before they throw their hands in on top of Tessa's, “And one for all!”  

 


	3. August 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phantom menace, swimsuits, ice cream, and the new kid. 
> 
> Or: the arrival of Patrick Chan.
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Also, uh... spoiler alert for a 19 year old movie?

**hey look out for that moving van**

 

“I can’t believe the people who made that movie had Darth Maul kill Qui-Gon Jinn.” Scott climbs out of the swimming pool and throws his hands in the air. They’d gone to see the new Star Wars movie that morning at his request and he's been trying to move past the ending all afternoon. Tessa had suggested coming to the public pool as a distraction, but it's clear as he takes his seat on the the chair next to her's that he still isn’t over it.

The hot sun beats down on them reminiscent of Tatooine, and it does nothing to cool Scott's anger. 

“He goes through the whole movie being the smartest guy in the room, only to get skewered by a Sith. I know Obi-Wan had to live 'cuz he's the hero and all, but come _on_.”

“Scott,” Tessa says patiently, “I’m trying to read.” She reprimands him over the top of her sunglasses from where she's reclining in her light blue swimsuit and trying desperately to get some sort of tan (but mostly just increasing her freckle count).

“I’m having a crisis here, T, and you’ve already read Chamber of Secrets twice since it came out in June.”

“I want to know it really well so that I can read it to you correctly.” She explains slowly, before glancing at him with those expressive green eyes, “You still want to do that, right?” 

He slumps in his seat, “Yeah, I do.”

They’d started the tradition after Sorcerer’s Stone was released last year – climbing into her older brothers’ treehouse to read it together. Tessa would read to him out loud, doing all the accents and voices, and Scott would provide the blankets and snacks. It's one of his favorite things that they do together (and that's saying a lot considering they're together all the time), so he goes quiet and tries to let her focus. 

She turns another page and Scott starts to jiggle his leg - he’s bored and freaking out over the movie and he needs an outlet. It doesn't take long before the words come bursting out, “But Tess! They killed him off! They made us sit through that whole thing, including Jar Jar Binks, only to kill off one of the best Jedis!”

Tessa lets out one long, exaggerated sigh, clearly resigned to the fact that Scott isn't going to leave her alone, and puts her bookmark in place before sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the chair to face him. “If we’d seen Tarzan like I wanted, you wouldn’t be so upset.”

“I don’t get why you _aren’t_ upset.”

She shrugs, flicking at a piece of wet grass stuck to her foot, “I liked Padme. She was awesome and she lived, so I’m fine.”       

“Rude.”

“Why don’t you call Eric? He had this exact same meltdown over the phone last weekend.”

“I keep forgetting to call him." Scott frowns. He keeps meaning to, but the summer has been so busy that by the time he remembers, it's usually too late and he's already in bed. "Wait... if he had this meltdown last weekend, then you already knew what happened in the movie!" 

Tessa's cheeks turn pink and she holds her book up in front of her face before replying, "Maybe." 

"TESS!" He shouts, feeling betrayed, earning a few glares from some nearby mothers at his volume. They'd been planning on seeing Star Wars together all summer - and now he doesn't even get to enjoy her genuine reactions because she'd been told the whole plot beforehand. Watching Tessa react to new movies is hilarious (she gets so into them) and now he's been cheated. 

"It's not my fault! I called him like normal and he just went off. I didn't have time to tell him to stop before he'd already told me everything."

"Eric and his big mouth." Scott grumbles, feeling not so friendly towards the third Musketeer right at that moment. But then he realizes what Tessa said and he sits up a little straighter, pulling the book away from her face so that he can look at her properly, "What do you mean you called him like normal? How often do you call?”

“Um... We talk every Saturday.” She explains, reaching for the sun-tan lotion and applying more of it to her pale legs - the fake coconut smell coming out strong. Jordan had recently been allowed to go tanning at an actual salon and Scott knows Tessa's been harboring some jealousy over it - even though he doesn't understand why. Who cares what color your legs are when you can run as fast as she can? 

“For the whole summer?" Scott asks again for clarification. Eric had gone to Alberta to spend the summer on his uncle’s ranch, which he'd been pretty excited about, and he'd promised to bring Scott back a genuine cowboy hat. Scott's missed him, but... it’s just kind of weird because he's been so busy playing games and running around with Tess, that he also kind of forgets about him.

It's a bit of a shock that Tessa hasn't done the same.  

“Yes, all summer. I promised I would when he left.”

“Oh... You don’t call me that much.” Scott pouts and Tessa rolls her eyes.

“I see you every day.” She opens Harry Potter to the place she'd marked and Scott knows he's losing her to the world of witches and wizards and magical beasts again. 

“I’m going to go get us some ice cream. It’s as hot as the surface of the sun out here.” He complains, using his swim towel to wipe the sweat off of his forehead and putting on his plastic sunglasses.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what flavor I want first?” Tessa asks, peeking out over her book.

“Do you want something other than chocolate?” Scott replies, already knowing the answer.

She grins at him, wide and happy, “No.”

He tugs playfully at one of her braids and she sticks out her tongue at him, earning her a poke to the ribs where Scott knows she's ticklish, and she squeals in response. 

"Be back in a sec!" He gives her a cheerful little wave and heads off in the direction of the Snack Shack. 

 

“How much for a strawberry ice cream cone?” The kid in front of him asks, his black hair still carefully combed somehow, despite being wet from the pool.

"It’s one fifty.” The bored teenager replies, sounding a little impatient. Scott cranes his head over the counter and can see a guy in the back of the shack playing on his Gameboy. Probably her boyfriend. 

“Oh. Okay.” The boy’s head falls dejectedly as he turns away, and his sad expression has Scott reaching for the three dollars in his pocket.

“Hi!” He steps in front of the kid's path, preventing him from leaving, and gives him his best friendly smile. “I’m Scott. What’s your name?”

“Um… Patrick. Patrick Chan.” The boy sticks out his hand and Scott tries not to laugh as he shakes it. Poor kid seems so tense and formal. 

“Hey, cool! Patrick’s my middle name! It’s nice to meet you. Can I buy you some ice cream? I always like to give ice cream to new friends.” He's probably talking too fast and sounds a little crazy, but he really wants to wipe the frown off of Patrick's face. 

“No, no, I couldn’t let you do that.”

“You see that girl over there?" Scott points to Tessa, "I’m buying her some ice cream too. It’s no big deal. Strawberry, right?”

Patrick hesitates for a moment before nodding his head, and Scott wastes no time walking up to the counter and handing the girl his money and telling her his order.

He turns to Patrick while they wait. “Are you here visiting family?”

“No, my parents just moved here last week. I’m new in town.”

“Awesome. We don’t get a lot of new people. Where did you move from?”

"Ottawa.”

"Oh man, my friend Tess is gonna love you. She’s been reading up about all of Canada’s major cities for the past couple of weeks. Come on, let me introduce you.” 

Scott takes the ice cream from the girl and hands the pink one to Patrick, who looks at the ice cream with so much happiness Scott wonders if he's never had it before, then leads him over to where Tess still has her nose buried in the book. 

“Here, T.” He waits until she's carefully put Harry Potter back into her bag before handing her the cone (she'd be devastated if anything spilled on it), and she takes it - looking at his empty hands curiously. 

“Where’s yours?”

“I figured that my best friend in the whole wide world would share hers with me. Because she's amazing. And my best friend.” 

"She will, will she?” Tessa quirks an eyebrow at him, a move she’s recently perfected, and Scott just grins at her until she rolls her eyes and caves – taking a few long licks before handing it back to him so that he can have some.

“Thanks, Kiddo. See? You're the best." He gestures to the boy standing quietly next to him, licking away happily at his own treat, "This is Patrick. He just moved here from Ottawa.”

"Hi, Patrick. I’m Tessa Virtue.” Scott watches as she sticks out her hand and gives Patrick a firm, yet ladylike handshake. She’s started getting manicures with Jordan lately and she looks like a mini grown up with the way she sits up straight and acts so seriously about meeting someone new. Like she's trying to be on her best behavior. 

So, naturally, he reaches out and snaps the strap of her swimsuit both to get her attention and to make her be herself again. It works, and she makes a horrible face at him as he hands back her ice cream. Drops of chocolate had melted off onto his hand and Scott focuses on eating them while Tessa asks questions. 

"So Patrick, how do you like Ilderton so far?” Tessa asks, diving in on the delicious chocolate flavor and making a mess of her mouth. It's nice to see she isn't a complete lady yet like her mom wants (if Scott had his choice, he'd keep her wild forever).

“It’s… different. A lot smaller than Ottawa.”

“Ilderton’s smaller than everywhere.” Tessa deadpans. “What’s Ottawa like? Have you been to Montreal? Do they really speak all in French?”

Tessa had become obsessed with all things Parisian or French or even remotely close to those two topics ever since her brother Kevin did a study abroad there last semester. Scott has hardly heard about anything else _all summer_. Which is why he can't help but roll his eyes a little bit at the way she's literally sitting on the edge of her seat. 

"Um... yeah, mostly. In Ottawa it's kind of split, but up in Montreal and stuff pretty much everybody speaks French." 

"Do you speak French?" Tessa asks eagerly.

"Oui!" Patrick says with a strawberry pink smile, and Scott purses his lips - unimpressed. 

“It sounds amazing.” Tessa says with starry eyes.

“Ilderton’s amazing too.” Scott protests, feeling a strong need to defend their hometown.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Tessa argues, handing him back the ice cream cone.

"I’m here, and I’m awesome.” He grins and pokes Tessa in the ribs, making her laugh. She'd saved the best part of the ice cream for him - the bit that melts down into the cone and makes it one big yummy soggy mess. She hates getting sticky, and she knows it's his favorite part to eat and always gives it to him when they share a cone. 

“Okay, okay. I guess you are.” She pokes him back.

He grins at her around a mouth full of sugar, “We should give Patrick the grand Ilderton tour, Tess.”

“Are you sure that he has that much spare time? It might take twenty whole minutes!”

Scott swallows and turns to Patrick, "Ugh. Don’t listen to her, Patrick, she just can't see it. Ilderton’s great.”

 

The grand tour really turns out to be a highlight reel of all their best pranks, with Scott and Tessa proudly taking turns pointing them out. 

"And this is where Tessa and Eric put globs of paint in a rainbow on the Sheriff's windshield wipers. Boy was that a fun surprise for him when he turned them on!" Scott laughs, pointing at the Sheriff's official parking stall outside the station. 

Patrick looks over at Tessa with wide eyes, "Did you get arrested?" 

"No... he couldn't prove it was us. Although my brother Casey did find the leftover paint in my backpack later." 

"Did he turn you in?"

"Nope. Helped me bury it in the backyard." She states proudly, and they all laugh. "That's where Scott sold Oreos with toothpaste in the middle. People  _were_ mad about that one." Tessa points across the street while they walk, pretending to make a gagging sound, "I can't blame them." 

"Hey, I advertised them as  _A Magical New Flavor_ , people just took that how they wanted." Scott defends himself, nudging Patrick in the side with a playful smile. 

"Most people assumed it would be an  _edible_ flavor." Tessa says with a little giggle, shaking her head affectionately. 

"That's the post office. Eric toilet papered it last Halloween. He really nearly  _did_ get arrested that time. You'll meet him when school starts." Scott says, and Tessa's face goes a little white at the memory. She's still worried someone will hear them if they talk about it and turn them in - something Scott likes to tease her for. 

"Are you guys always getting into trouble? My parents don't like trouble." Patrick sounds a little nervous, and Scott rushes to make him feel better. The last thing he wants is to scare this kid off, because he actually seems pretty cool. 

"No, no. We hardly get into any trouble at all." 

The reassurance is somewhat ruined when Tessa snorts. 

 

\-------

 

The only thing to do when making a new friend after confessing all your past crimes is to invite him to movie night, which is a weekly event held at Scott's house because his parents have the best movie collection. And his mom will let them build forts without worrying about the state of her pillows and couch cushions after. 

That night's feature is Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Tessa's pick, and even though Scott likes to tease her for always picking old movies - he genuinely does like this one. Or, at least, he did until Patrick brought over something called sticky rice cakes as his contribution to their snack pile and Scott ate five of them.

“I feel sick.” Scott complains, holding his stomach and rolling to his side, burying his face into the pillow in Tessa's lap in the hope that she’ll comfort him.

“Don't blame it on Chitty.” Tessa says, jumping to defend a smiling Dick Van Dyke before taking pity on Scott and rubbing his back to try and help him feel better.  

“No, I’m blaming it on Chiddy.” Scott says, pointing at Patrick. “He brought all these treats.”

“What? What did I do? I thought you wanted me to bring some? This is what my mom said I could bring.”

“You did great, Patrick. Scott’s just not great with sugar.” Tessa explains, reaching over Scott for another handful of M&M’s.

Scott turns his head so that his voice isn't so muffled, “And Tessa is supposed to stop me from eating too much, but she’s sugar crazy and forgets we don’t all have her tolerance.” 

“It’s a gift.” She shrugs with a little smile, popping some Junior Mints into her mouth for good measure.

“Why Chiddy though?” Patrick asks.

“Because, it will remind me never to ask you for treats ever again.” Scott lifts himself just enough to roll over and flops down onto his back in dramatic fashion - making Tessa and Patrick both laugh.

When Patrick speaks next, his voice comes out sounding kind of awestruck, “No one’s ever given me a nickname before.”

“Get used to it.” Tessa says, “Scott _loves_ nicknames. And the ones he picks usually stick.”

“I sure do, T-Bomb.” Scott manages to wink up at her, despite his aching internal organs, "T-Swizzle, Kiddo, T, Tessa Wessa Bo Bessa."

She fixes him with a look, and Scott cringes, "Okay, maybe not that last one." 

"Hey, you know what I just realized?" Tessa asks, looking very pleased with herself, "We found our D'Artagnan. The Musketeers are complete!" 

 

"...What's a D'Artagnan?" 

 

 


	4. August 2001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anniversary  
> noun: the date on which an event took place in a previous year
> 
> Rating: G

**i can't forget the time or place**

 

_**August 2001** _

_**Ilderton, Ontario** _

 

Scott watches his father getting ready for his big night out with only mild interest. The way he carefully chooses a button-down shirt before perusing through his ties - holding each one up to the shirt to compare before finally making a selection - then holds it up to the mirror while tying a perfect Windsor knot and making sure that it's sitting straight. It all seems like an awful lot of effort for one night, if you ask Scott. Why get all dressed up when you can stay home and watch the Leafs instead? (Which is what he suspects his dad would rather be doing).

"Now, did you watch how I did that, son? Make sure you pick the correct length before you begin tying, and don't forget to hold onto the bottom of the knot when you're tightening it around your neck at the end." 

His dad smiles at him in the mirror, then grabs his suit coat from where it's hanging on the back of Scott's chair. He'd had to use Scott's room to get ready tonight, because Alma had commandeered the master bedroom for her own preparations after explaining that she didn't want him to see her new dress until she's completely ready to go. 

"I don't think I'll ever need to know that." Scott replies absentmindedly, going back to reading his book on soccer stats. He's decided he might start playing the sport next summer to occupy the months when hockey isn't in season.  

"Of course you will. There are many times in a man's life when he needs to know how to tie a tie properly." 

"I'll just keep wearing the zipper ones that Mom buys me." Scott says with a shrug, glancing back at his dad to find him carefully combing his hair. It's a lot more effort than Scott's seen them put into a night out in a long time. Maybe ever. “Where are you and Mom going again?”

"We’re going down to London to eat dinner at Abruzzi. It’s our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary today.” His dad reminds him, "Speaking of which, that's definitely a day you'll need to wear a tie. Your wedding!" 

Scott thinks back to his proposal to Tessa in the ice rink almost two years ago, and snorts. If he actually  _does_ end up marrying her, he's pretty sure that he can convince her to let him get away without wearing a tie. But instead of explaining that to his dad (who might tell the Virtues that he'd kissed Tessa and then he'd get in trouble), Scott shifts the subject to something safer. 

“Why do you have to wear a suit? You hate suits.”

“Because it’s a nice restaurant, and I want to impress your mom.”

Scott drops his book on the bed, more interested in the conversation now that it's not focused on ridiculous fabrics designed for male strangulation, “But you’re already married. Aren’t you done impressing her forever?”

"Scott, when two people have known each other as long as we have, sometimes it’s nice to spice things up a little. And we both believe it’s important to acknowledge how long we’ve been together and our commitment to each other. Plus, it makes her happy and a happy wife is a happy life.” His dad winks and ruffles his hair as he walks past him and up the stairs, patting his pocket like he always does to make sure his wallet is there (He'd forgotten his wallet on their trip to Niagara Falls three years ago and Alma refuses to let him live it down).

“So… if you didn’t celebrate your anniversary would Mom be mad?” Scott asks, following him up the stairs and into the kitchen. He had no idea there were rules about remembering special days. 

“Not mad, but she would be sad. It’s important to remind the people we love how we feel about them and that we appreciate them.”

Scott pours himself a generous glass of chocolate milk and sits down at the table, thinking over what his dad said and wondering if he's been making Tessa sad all these years. “Do only married people have anniversaries?”

“No. Anybody can celebrate an anniversary. If a date is important and you want to acknowledge it, then you should. Why?”

Scott hesitates, but it's his dad and he can tell him almost anything, so he continues with his question, “So… like, the day you met someone could be one?”

“Sure, son. You thinkin’ of anyone in particular?” His dad smiles with a twinkle in his eye and Scott can feel his ears turning red. Thankfully he’s saved from answering by his mother walking down the hallway in a sparkly red dress and looking very different from how she usually does.

“Wow, Mom. You’re beautiful.” Scott says and she blushes (a trait she'd clearly passed on) and dismisses his comment with a wave of her hand.

"The boy's right, Alma. You are stunning." His dad says, kissing her on the lips, and Scott grimaces and pretends to gag - something that always makes his parents laugh.

“Now, Scottie, the emergency numbers are on the fridge. I’ve ordered you a pizza – go ahead and use the spare cash in the porcelain dog on the counter by the phone. Yes, you can call Tessa if you want to, but you need to be in bed by ten.”

“Okay.” Scott agrees happily. He likes being home alone sometimes - it's like a little adventure. And usually Tess joins him and they turn the house into a castle or swamp or battlefield or some other sort of imaginary playground and then it's _really_ an adventure. 

“Bye sweetie.” She kisses him on top of his head and takes his dad’s arm like something out of a cheesy old movie that Tessa would like and they walk out the front door – leaving Scott to his own devices.

He reaches for the phone to call Tessa, but then stops himself. Any other night and he definitely would, but right now he has work to do.

Heading into his dad’s office, he flicks the switch on the computer and waits impatiently for it to boot up, then plugs his ears while the dial-up internet works on connecting. The screeching is horrible and someday he hopes whoever makes computers will find a way to turn it off.

When he’s finally connected he goes to Ask Jeeves to type in “5th anniversary ideas" and waits for the results. Because that’s what he’d been getting at when talking to his dad – August 26th will be the fifth anniversary of the day he and Tessa met, and his dad had said that it’s important to acknowledge how long you’ve been with someone, otherwise they might get sad. And Scott had spent most of the last five years trying to make sure that Tessa is always happy – he isn’t about to stop trying now.

All of the search results talk about wedding anniversaries, which doesn’t really help him, but they all also talk about wood. Wooden watches, wooden signs, wooden jewelry. Apparently every anniversary has a specific type of gift assigned, and that's the one for the fifth year.

Somehow he doesn’t think that means he’s supposed to give Tessa a log.

The pizza arrives (full of meat and veggies, just how he likes it) so Scott shuts off the computer and heads back out to the living room to watch Bloodsport and indulge – free to have as much as he wants now that Danny and Charlie aren’t around to hog it all - and wracks his brain for ideas on what exactly he should give Tess on Sunday.

 

\-------

 

He considers making her a birdhouse, but then he remembers that the Virtues already have a fancy bird bath in their yard and nothing he makes could compare. Then he thinks about whittling her a whistle, but that idea dies the first time he attempts it with his little Swiss Army Knife and accidentally snaps the stick in half.  

Eventually, it occurs to him (during his thousandth rewatch of Star Wars) that she likes Padme and had thought it was sweet when Anakin carved her a necklace, so he asks his dad for help making something along those lines for Tess.

They head to the hardware store and his dad makes a million suggestions and eventually they manage to decide on making a small heart-shaped pendant out of a nice cherry wood. His dad does all the dangerous stuff on the scroll saw, but he lets Scott sand it - shaping the heart and getting it nice and smooth – and do the carving. 

Using a little gouging tool, Scott makes five dots along the edge of the front side of the heart, one for each year, and engraves “T & S” on the back. When he's satisfied that it looks alright, they stain it a pretty medium-brown shade before adding a metal peg at the top for the necklace chain. 

"I'm really proud of you, Scott." His dad claps him on the back, and Scott's chest fills with pride. "Tessa is really going to love it." 

"I hope so." 

 

\-------

 

His dad tells his mom about his plans, of course, and she gets so excited that she jumps in on the planning right away. Scott knows that his mom adores Tessa, always has, and so he lets her contribute ideas (it doesn't hurt that his mom is actually pretty great at gift giving).  

“Scott, look what I found!” She calls out to him from the office one morning during breakfast, and Scott goes running – thinking maybe she found his lost Albert Pujols rookie card – but instead he finds her pointing at the computer screen. “The Ilderton Youth Theatre is doing _Into the Woods_! Isn’t that perfect? You could get tickets for the twenty-sixth and take Tessa.”

Well, it might not be his rookie card, but it is a pretty good idea. Tessa likes musicals and it fits the theme, so he agrees and hands his mom ten of his carefully saved dollars so that she can buy the tickets for him while running errands the next day.

“I’ll pay for them, Scottie. I think it’s really sweet, what you’re doing for Tess, and I’m happy to help.”

“No," Scott shakes his head and forces her to accept his money, "I want to do it myself.”  

It's  _their_ anniversary, and he wants to prove he can do it right. 

 

\-------

 

The final piece of the plan involves actually inviting Tessa, but Scott wants it all to be a surprise so he remains purposely vague on the phone call. Which he knows only frustrates her - she likes to know details and exactly what to expect - but it's just not going to have the same effect if she knows it's coming beforehand. 

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Tessa says over the phone Saturday night, sounding confused and a little annoyed, “You want me to dress up nice tomorrow, but you won’t tell me why?”

“Yeah. It’s a surprise.”

“But… I’ve never dressed up nice for a playdate. We usually get into trouble and my mom would be so mad if I got one of my dresses dirty.”

“We aren’t going to get into trouble, or get dirty – I promise.” Tessa scoffs and Scott laughs a little bit. The chances of them doing both those things are generally pretty high. 

“Then what _are_ we doing?”

“Tes-sa,” Scott says slowly, whining at how stubborn she can be, “Please just say yes.”

“Fine, fine. Yes. I’ll wear a dress.”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at three-thirty.” He hesitates, then corrects himself, “Well, I mean my mom will pick you up. But I’ll be in the car, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Tessa repeats, and he can tell she’s smiling at him through the phone. "See you tomorrow." 

"See ya!" He shouts into the mouthpiece.

"Wouldn't wanna be ya!" She replies, and they both break down giggling as they hang up. 

 

 

The next day Scott makes sure his mom gets him to Tessa’s house at exactly the right time, tugging awkwardly at his button down shirt and little black slacks the whole way over. He'd attempted to wear one of his dad's ties, but apparently he hadn't picked up any of his dad's lesson because it was  _impossible_ to get right, and eventually he'd given up and thrown it onto the floor. Hopefully Tessa won't notice.

"It's going to be fine, Scott." His mom says with a smile, reaching for her purse and pulling out a camera. 

"Oh no, no pictures." 

"Just one or two! I don't think I've ever had a son willingly dress up in a suit before - I want to remember this." 

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes and wipes his sweaty hands off on his pants before getting out of the car and walking up to Tessa's front door. He has no idea why he's so nervous - this is  _Tessa_ , for goodness sake - but he can't seem to shake the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. 

"Hey, Scott!" The door flies open before he has a chance to ring the doorbell, and Tessa stands there in a light purple dress greeting him with a wide smile. "Wow, you look really nice. I thought maybe you were kidding about this whole dressing up thing." 

"I wasn't kidding. Um... you look pretty." 

"Thank you. My dress has pockets!" She swishes her skirt around, showing off, and Scott feels like maybe he's missing the significance of the pockets statement, but he congratulates her anyway.

"I have something for you." 

He hands (more like forcefully shoves into her arms) her the card he made to go with the little box containing the necklace, and she opens it and reads it out loud, “Tessa, here is my present for you. Happy anniversary. Love, Scott.” She looks up at him with a funny sort of smile, “Aren’t anniversaries for married people?”

“Sometimes,” He rushes to defend himself, worried that she might laugh at him, “But my dad said they could be for any date that’s important, and I figure the day we met is a pretty big deal.”

“Oh.” Her smiles turns sort of… soft, and her cheeks are pink, and Scott can tell that he definitely didn’t make her sad so that’s a win.

Tessa carefully unties the ribbon around the box (one of his mom’s old jewelry boxes that he hopes she won’t mind he borrowed) and lifts the lid. He watches nervously as she pulls the necklace out and looks at it, taking it gingerly in her hands and inspecting it closely, “Did you make this?”

“Yeah. My dad helped, but yeah.”

“For me?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly he’s got an armful of Tessa and a mouthful of her hair as she springs herself at him, hugging him with enough enthusiasm that he almost falls off the porch.

“I love it! I love it so much! Thank you!”

Relief pours out of him and he returns the hug just as enthusiastically. She doesn’t hate it or think he’s silly. That’s another win.

“You’re welcome. Are you ready to go now?”

“Where are we going?” She asks, much more eager for their activity now than she was over the phone the night before. 

“Fifth anniversaries are all about wood, according to the internet, so I’m taking you to see _Into the Woods_.”

Her eyes go wide as she makes the connection, "That’s why I needed a dress.”

"Yep.”

“This is the best anniversary ever. You’re the best friend I could ever have. I love you!” She hugs him again and Scott feels all warm and fuzzy inside. He knows his mom is taking pictures and Mrs. Virtue is watching from beside her, and by all accounts he should be completely embarrassed beyond belief right now, but Tessa is so happy that all Scott can feel is happiness too.

"Right back at ya, Kiddo. Now we’ve got to go or we’re gonna to be late.”

“Okay, I’m ready. Let's go.” She puts the necklace on over her head, practically glowing with happiness, and bounces as they walk towards the car.

As Scott buckles himself in beside her, he promises himself that he’ll always remember their anniversary so that he can make Tessa this happy forever.

 


	5. May 17, 2003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa has a crush, Scott doesn't like it. 
> 
> Rating: G

**don't stand so close to (him)**

 

_**May 17, 2003** _

_**Ilderton, Ontario** _

The key to having the perfect hair is patience. You don’t want to use too little gel and have your hair fall flat, but you also don’t want to use too much and have it look greasy. Finding that perfect spot in the middle, where each spike of hair looks exactly right, is an art form.

Which is why Scott has spent the last twenty minutes in front of his bathroom mirror meticulously going over every inch of his hair and getting it to stand up just how he wants it. He’s fifteen and a half years old and looking cool is mandatory if he wants to have any street cred (or what passes as street cred in tiny Ilderton).

On the radio Coldplay’s repetitive piano melody drifts out through the speakers while Chris Martin curses missed opportunities, and Scott feels pretty confident that today is going to be a good day.

Distantly, he hears the front door open and close and footsteps walking across his ceiling before Tessa’s familiar voice calls out, “Scott, are you ready to go?”  

Today is Tessa’s birthday, and since it conveniently landed on a Saturday this year and they don’t have school, the four of them (him, Tess, Eric, and Chiddy) are celebrating by going to see the new Lizzie McGuire movie (her choice) and then get ice cream – maybe bowling after that, if they have time. 

“Coming!” He yells back, putting the finishing touches on his spiky hair. Once he’s satisfied that it looks good enough, he gives himself two finger-guns in the mirror and runs up the stairs two at a time to join her and head to the theatre.

He finds Tessa in the kitchen talking to Danny, who’s home visiting from his senior year of college for the weekend, playing with the necklace he’d made her a couple of years ago and looking a little bit shy and awkward (she also looks very pretty, but Scott tries not to pay too much attention to that).

After nearly seven years, Scott considers himself something of an expert on reading Tessa – but this behavior is new for her. He has no idea what to make of her flushed cheeks and dimpled little smile and the way she ducks her head and laughs at everything Danny says.

“How old are you today, Tutu?” Danny asks while pouring himself a generous glass of chocolate milk and munching on a handful of Cheetos.

"Fourteen.”

“Wow. You’re really growing up!”

She blushes and Scott scrunches up the his nose like he’s smelled something bad. He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at his older brother.

Not. At. All.

"And getting even more beautiful with every year. You’ll have boys falling all over you soon.” Danny winks, and Tessa _giggles_. “You and Scottie have fun today, and try not to get into too much trouble.”

“No promises.” Tessa replies with a small, mischievous smile, still giggling a little bit, and Scott sneaks up from behind and grabs her by the shoulders to snap her out of it.

“Come on, T, we’re gonna be late.” He takes her hand and tugs her towards the door, giving Danny the stink eye and grouchily saying, “Get your own Tessa!”

His brother just grins and puckers up his lips - mocking Scott with imitation kisses - and Scott flips him off. 

 

Tessa heads outside with an extra spring in her step and a sort of giddy happiness in her face that makes Scott acutely uncomfortable. In the last fifteen minutes his day has taken a complete one-eighty directly off of a cliff. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Danny was home?” Tessa asks as they grab their razor scooters and head down the sidewalk towards Ilderton’s tiny, one screen movie theatre.

“Because I didn’t think that you’d care? What is up with you today – you were all red like a tomato back there with Danny. It was weird.”

“Nothing… just…” She glances at him before focusing on the path in front of her, “Did you notice that he’s gotten kind of cute?”

Scott goes to get his next kick off the ground with his right foot, and trips instead – nearly sending him sprawling across the cement. Thankfully he’s pretty light on his feet, due to all of his mandatory skating lessons all these years, and he manages to keep himself upright (just barely).

Tessa comes to a sudden stop beside him, looking horrified, “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

He’s fine, so he ignores her concern, “What do you mean he’s cute? Danny isn’t cute. He’s old and… and annoying.”

“He’s not so old.” Tessa replies, looking entirely too starry-eyed for Scott’s liking.

"Yes, he is. He’s twenty-three, T. That’s way too old for you. You can’t have a crush on Danny. I forbid it.”

“You _forbid_ it?” The hand not being used to prop up her scooter comes to rest on her hip as she cocks her head, and that’s how Scott knows that he’s made a serious mistake. Tessa hates being told what she can't do, but he stands firm and refuses to take it back.

“Yes. You and I are getting married, remember?” He attempts to make it sound like a joke, a silly little throwback to their promise at the arena so many years ago, but he’s kind of half serious about it.

“Scott,” Tessa says in that voice of hers that she knows bugs him, the one where she sounds like she’s years older and full of wisdom, “That was four years ago. Besides, even if I did marry you it wouldn’t be for like ten years.”

"Psh,” Scott scoffs with a wave of his hand, “You think you can stay away for a whole decade? No way.”

Tessa arches an eyebrow at him and snorts, “You certainly have a high opinion of yourself. Let me have a crush on who I want to, okay? I didn’t stop you from sending love notes to Jessica last autumn, did I?”

“That’s different. And they weren’t love notes – you know Bryce broke up with her in front of the whole school, so I sent her anonymous notes to make her feel better.”

“And then when she found out it was you, you took her to see _The Ring_ – that’s a date.” Tessa points out with a smug smile.

“A bad one. She never talked to me again after that.” It's true, she'd screamed and covered her eyes through most of the movie, and when it was over told him he was an awful person for making her watch it and that she hoped when he got home someone called him and whispered  _seven days_ like in the movie. 

Not exactly a love match. 

“Whatever. The point is I can like whoever I want.” Tessa gets back on her scooter and kicks off again, leaving Scott with no choice but to follow her.

“You know his farts are the worst out of all of us, right?” He calls out, kicking harder to keep up with her.  

“Ew! Gross, Scott!”

Good. If she's thinks Danny is gross then she won’t like him. “And sometimes he hawks the loudest loogies and then spits them out. It’s disgusting.”

Tessa, who, for all her trouble-making, is a firm believer in good manners, visibly flinches. “Stop.”

“I found his dirty magazines once.” Scott smirks at the way Tessa’s eyes have gone wide, and deals the final blow, “He likes busty blondes.”

Tessa comes to a sudden stop in front of the movie theatre and gives him a look that could kill a man, “Now you’re just being mean.”

She’s right. He is being mean, and he knows it. Knows that as a fourteen year old skinny girl who hasn’t developed as quickly as the other girls in their grade, Tessa is really sensitive about her looks, but he can’t seem to help it. His best friend can’t have a crush on his brother. She just can’t.

So instead of apologizing to her, he comes up with an excuse instead, “You’re the one breaking the code.”

Tessa throws her hands up in exasperation, “What code!?”

“The no-liking-my-best-friend’s-siblings code.”

"That’s not a thing.” She argues, red splotches showing up on her face like they only do when she's  _really_ mad.

“It is now!”

“You can’t just make up rules like that!”

“Can too!”

“Cannot!”

“Can too!”

“Cannot!”

“Hey guys!” They’re interrupted by the arrival of Chiddy, who walks his bike up to them blissfully unaware of the civil war going on and greets them with a jaunty little wave, “Happy birthday, Tess!”

He hands her a neatly wrapped box with a red bow on top, and their argument is momentarily forgotten as Tessa excitedly opens it – revealing the pair of blue bead earrings inside.

“Oh! They're so pretty! Thank you, Chiddy, I love them.” Tessa throws her arms around the other boy, and Scott glowers even more. _He_ was supposed to hug her today and be on the receiving end of her smiles, and instead he gets glares and shouting. 

The front doors of the theatre open and Eric sticks his head out, “Are you guys coming in? I’ve been waiting for ten minutes.”  

 

\-------

 

“The question is, who’s hotter – Lizzie or Isabella?” Chiddy asks as they leave the theatre, still munching on his popcorn. He always manages to ration his perfectly and get it to last the entire movie, whereas Scott’s popcorn is always gone within the first ten minutes. It's a level of self-discipline he envies. 

“You do realize that they’re the same person, right?” He points out, sincerely hoping that Chiddy didn’t spend the entire movie thinking they were played by two different actresses.

“Duh. But one’s blonde and the other is brunette – that makes a difference. And Isabella has an _accent_.” Chiddy says, throwing a handful of popcorn at Scott’s face and laughing.

“A bad one.” Eric states, disinterested in this line of questioning. “It’s Tessa’s birthday, shouldn’t we be asking who she likes? Tess, Gordo or Paolo?”

Tessa chuckles and holds her hand to her mouth like it’s a very serious question that requires her full concentration, “Hmmm… Well, Paolo was a jerk, so he wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend. That pretty much makes my choice Gordo by default. But it is sweet that Lizzie ended up with her best friend. I was happy about that.”

“Paolo’s accent was pretty great though.” Eric says, “Much better than Isabella’s. But you’re right – for Lizzie the best friend was the right choice. I guess he was _what dreams are made of_.” 

Chiddy and Tessa groan at the pun, shoving a grinning, self-satisfied Eric in the shoulder.  

“See?” Scott chimes in, their argument from earlier still simmering underneath his skin and bursting free at the opportunity to bring it back up, “The best friend was the dream, Tess, not his older disgusting brother.”

“Would you let it go already.” Tessa rolls her eyes and reaches for her scooter where it rests against the wall. They’d all left their transportation outside the theatre, as it's not like crime is really an issue in Ilderton (unless they're the ones committing it).

“Let what go?” Chiddy asks, grabbing his bike. “What are you guys fighting about?”

Tessa says, “Nothing!” Just as Scott says, “Tess has a crush on Danny! My idiot brother!”

“You _like_ your idiot brother Danny, remember?” Tessa points out, her hands moving back to her hips with an exaggerated eye roll, her scooter staying perfectly balanced underneath her left foot.  

Scott folds his arms and grumbles, “Yeah, most of the time, but not right now I don’t.”

“Come on guys, let’s just go get ice cream.” Eric attempt to make peace, grabbing the handles of Tessa’s scooter and physically dragging her away from Scott before she can let loose the angry tirade clearly bubbling to the surface.

 

 

Unfortunately, apparently even ice cream can’t lift Scott’s spirits. He stands outside the shop angrily licking at his plain vanilla cone, tuning out the happy chatter from his three friends, and tries to imagine Tessa and Danny together - it looks all sorts of wrong. Like one of those Salvador Dali paintings they’d learned about in school - clocks gone soft and hanging all distorted off trees and rivers.

Unnatural.

“You know Danny’s only ever going to see you as a little kid, right?”

Tessa spins around, shooting daggers at him with her eyes, “Oh that is _it,_ Scott Moir!”

She hurls her ice cream at him so fast that it’s a miracle he ducks in time. The frozen glob of chocolate and brownie chunks whizzes over the top of his head, barely missing its intended target, and goes flying somewhere behind him – landing with a horrible SPLAT followed by a string of expletives.

Scott really hopes that voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does, but one look at Tessa’s ashen face tells him all that he needs to know.

“Run!” Without bothering to turn around and look at the accidental victim, he grabs her and forces her to take off in the opposite direction of the man behind them.

Scott can hear the Sheriff in hot pursuit, and he forces his legs to move faster.

Thankfully, he and Tessa are pretty speedy and a lot smaller and know all of Ilderton’s shortcuts, so they manage lose him pretty quickly in the maze of backyards and alleyways.

 

Once the chase began, however, they couldn’t stop until they made it somewhere safe, which is how they end up running all the way to the Virtue house - collapsing on the bed in Tessa’s room after climbing in through the window.

One look at each other and they burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe you hit Sheriff Adkins in the face. He’s going to hate you _forever_.” Scott wheezes, holding his aching ribs.

“I know,” Tessa moans, grabbing one of her pink throw pillows and covering her face with it, “The Universe was really against me today. That just _had_ to happen on my birthday.”

“That’s because you upset it by fighting with me.” Scott states confidently – certain that the Universe is on his side this time. Surely it believes like he does that Tessa isn’t supposed to have a crush on his brother.

“Uh huh, sure.” Tessa grumbles sarcastically, voice muffled by the pillow.

He knows that he’s right, but he also doesn’t really want to fight about it anymore. Not on her birthday. The running burned the adrenaline out of his body, and he's ready to kiss and make-up (well, without the kissing, obviously). So with a heavy sigh Scott sits up and says, “Come on, T, I hate when we fight.” 

Her hand shoots out to jab his arm with her pointer finger, “You started it.”

“Okay, you’re right. I did.” He acknowledges, rubbing the spot gingerly with his opposite hand (her fingers are surprisingly sharp), “I’m sorry.”

She sits up, brushing her hair out of her face, and looks at him. Her eyes scrutinize his expression carefully from top to bottom to make sure that he’s telling the truth and is genuinely apologetic, before she says, “Thank you. I guess you’re forgiven. I hate fighting with you too.”

“You can like whoever you want, I guess.” Scott acquiesces painfully, even though the words feel funny coming out of his mouth. Like trying to fit a square block through a round hole in one of those little kid toys.

“Thanks…” They sit there quietly for a moment, the air around them feeling awkward in a way it never has before.

Eventually she breaks the silence, turning to give him a funny look, “My mom said that you’re not supposed to be in here anymore.”

“What? Why?” That catches his attention, making him sit up straight in protest, “I’ve been climbing through your window for seven years!”

“I know, but a couple days ago she came in here while I was doing homework and said that we’re too old for that and that it’s not ‘appropriate’ at our age.” She makes little air-quotes with her fingers as she speaks. “But I told her that we’re just friends and that she’s being paranoid. I mean, what does she even think would happen?”

Scott doesn’t say anything, but he can guess.

A few years ago the idea of anything… _like that_ … happening with Tessa would have probably grossed him out, but now…

For the first time, he can picture kissing her. Not like he did when he was twelve, but like boyfriends kiss their girlfriends. The mental image hits him like a sledgehammer to the face.

Oh.

_Oh_.

He shakes himself and stands up quickly, sitting next to her on the bed suddenly becoming too much proximity. Tessa’s a kid. He can't even drive yet. Those thoughts are one hundred percent off limits. Besides, they’re just friends.

Best friends.

It’s off limits.  

Okay, maybe Scott kind of figures they’ll end up together eventually (it just makes sense, doesn’t it?), but in the meantime she’s young and clearly not thinking of him that way, and he shouldn’t be thinking of her either.

 

So at school on Monday he’ll ask Alexis from his history class out on a date, and maybe apologize to Jessica for that whole horror movie debacle last year. He’ll take a page out of Chiddy’s book and be _patient_ , and wait and see if Tessa ever realizes that he would be a much better option for her than Danny.

 


	6. August 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A camping trip, scary stories, and some faulty mechanisms (like a tent pole and a heart). 
> 
> Rating: T

  **if you go out in the woods today...**

 

_**August 2004** _

_**Shady Pines Campground** _

“Are you sure that’s going to stay up?” Tessa warily eyes the small orange two-man tent Scott has just finished assembling, watching as he nails the last peg into the ground to keep it all tied down (at her insistence, despite his assurances that there aren’t any storms in the forecast and the chances of wind blowing them over are small).

“Yes, T.” Scott’s reply is full of affectionate exasperation, and she just knows that he’s rolling his eyes at her, even if she can’t see his face.

“I don’t want to get suffocated by canvas if it collapses.”

Scott gets to his feet and brushes his hands off on his pant legs before walking over and putting his hands on her shoulders, “I wouldn't let you suffocate, and it’s not going to collapse. I’ve put this thing up with Danny and Charlie like a million times. Relax.”

“I’m just saying-“

“If you guys are done we could really use some help.” Eric calls out, hefting the heavy cooler out of the back of Scott’s truck while Chiddy tries to manage two loads of firewood at once. Their own tent already hastily thrown together without pegs or a rainfly. 

“Coming!” Scott yells back, giving Tessa one more reassuring pat before heading over to help their friends.

It’s the last weekend before school starts and the four of them had gotten permission from their parents to go camping for the weekend. Although in the end one night is all they could reserve at the busy campground. The only space left was, of course, the one farthest from everyone else and in the middle of a large thicket of pine trees. Tessa's not exactly thrilled about how isolated they are, even if the guys are all happy about it.  

Scott’s parents had thought it was a great idea for them to go and readily offered up all their supplies (three boys had meant plenty of camping trips over the years), and Eric’s parents were just happy it wasn't another Halo LAN party, but Chiddy’s parents wouldn’t let him come until they were reassured Shady Pines was only a ten minute drive away and easily walk-able, should anything bad happen.

Tessa’s dad had been all for the plan, but her mom had been against it, and so they fought behind the closed doors of her dad’s office for a good twenty minutes (something that had been occurring with more frequency lately), before Kate finally came out looking like she’d swallowed a lemon and said that she could go.

The kids had been so enthusiastic about the whole thing that they ended up buying way too many supplies, which is what landed them in their current predicament.

“We could feed an army with all of this.” Chiddy states, staring at the pile of hot dogs and buns and supplies for s’mores and already looking faintly green. As if his body is preemptively preparing for the inevitable stomach ache he’ll have later.

"You’ll burn it all off during soccer practice next week.” Scott claps him on the back, reaching for a bag of marshmallows and tearing it open – handing one to Tessa before popping his own in his mouth. “And Tessa’s running cross-country this year, so she’s fine. Really it’s just Eric going soft that we have to worry about.”

Eric grabs the bag of marshmallows and shoves four in his mouth at once with a glare at Scott, who only laughs, “I go to the gym every morning. I could kick your ass any day, Moir.”

“Try it, Radford.”

Tessa and Chiddy start organizing the food while the two boys scuffle behind them, already used to their antics by now and not bothering to pay attention anymore.

“Who did you get for math this year?” Chiddy asks, carefully stacking boxes of graham crackers on the old, warped picnic table.

“Ms. Ure. I’ve heard she’s a beast.” She suppresses a shudder. Math isn’t her strong suit like it is for Scott, and she’s always struggled. English? History? Science? Sewing? Pretty much everything else she can do, and do well, but math remains elusive.

“Oh good. I have her too. I was worried I’d be suffering alone.”

“Who’s suffering?” Eric asks cheerfully, dirt streaked across his face.

“Us in Ms. Ure’s math class.” Chiddy replies and Eric winces. He’d had her last year and they didn’t hear the end of his suffering for nine long months.

“Wrong.” Scott comes up behind them and throws his arm around Tessa’s shoulders, “The only person suffering will be me if Tessa’s the one cooking the hot dogs tonight.”

Tessa gives him a dirty look, “Watch it. Eric’s not the only one who can kick your ass, Moir.”

“Yeah,” He shrugs easily, “But you’ll look prettier doing it.” He kisses her on the cheek before walking away to help Chiddy and Eric build a fire - the three of them immediately fighting over the right way to stack the logs.  

He’s been doing that a lot lately – kissing her cheek. Since pretty much the middle of last year. And it’s not that Tessa _minds_ exactly, it’s just… different. And confusing. And sometimes when he does it, her stomach does this funny little tingly thing and her heart beats a little faster.

It’s weird.

 

\-------

 

“You know what my cousin told me this summer?” Eric says, looking positively sinister in the glow of the fire, despite the fact that the corner of his mouth is still covered in chocolate and melted marshmallow.

“What?” Comes Chiddy’s muffled reply. He’s on his sixth or seventh s’more, Tessa isn’t sure which, but she knows a sugar-loading Chiddy when she sees one. His mom is one of those people who believes sugar rots your teeth, so they always bring extra treats just for Chiddy whenever they can.

“Her friend Caroline was babysitting one weekend, and she put the kids to bed like normal and then went downstairs to watch a movie. When she sat down, there was this clown statue in the corner. Weird, right? She tried to ignore it, but it was too creepy so she went upstairs and called the parents to ask if she could use the TV in their bedroom instead. The dad asked why and she said it was because the clown statue scared her. The next thing he said was, ‘Get the kids and get out of the house. We don’t have a clown statue.'”

_Oh_ , _it’s a scary story, not real_ , Tessa realizes with a barely repressed shiver. She hates scary stories, but the guys love them and so whenever they get rolling she sits quietly and tries to hide how frightened they make her. She knows it’s silly and entirely illogical, but blame her overactive imagination.

“Did you hear about the woman who was driving home from a family reunion late one night, when she noticed a semi-truck behind her?” Chiddy begins, and Tessa closes her eyes in preparation for the onslaught, “She kept waiting for him to pass, but instead he stayed directly behind her – flashing his high beams every couple minutes. She tries speeding up, slowing down, taking random roads, but nothing she does gets the guy to stop following her. Terrified, she speeds the rest of the way home and leaps out of her car. The driver of the truck gets out and pulls a gun, aiming right at her, and shoots! She screams, but the bullet doesn’t hit her. She turns around to see the body of a man in her backseat, clutching a butcher knife. 'I noticed him a while ago – I was trying to signal you,' he says. Every time the man raised his knife to stab her, the truck driver would flash his high beams.”

_This is silly. It isn’t real_ , _it isn’t real, it isn’t real,_ Tessa’s brain is yelling at her, but she can’t seem to listen. Her blood runs cold and she can feel the goosebumps breaking out across her skin. If she just could stop picturing the truck so vividly...

A branch snaps somewhere in the distance and she jumps.

Scott’s arm immediately circles around her shoulders, pulling her in closer to his side while laughing at the ridiculousness of Chiddy’s story. It’s not unusual for them to cuddle, so to the casual observer (see: Eric and Chiddy, who are used to their antics), it doesn’t mean anything. But Tessa knows that Scott sensed her fear and wanted to comfort her, without drawing attention to how scared she is and embarrassing her, and she loves him for it. She leans her head against his shoulder with a small smile, moving even closer to him, and she can see the corner of his mouth turn up as she does.

Eric begins the next scary story, something about two teenagers making out and a man with a hook, but she tunes him out – choosing to focus on Scott’s profile instead.

She looks at him, face lit by the firelight – highlighting the angles of his jaw and nose and making them sharper - and thinks that for all the teasing he gets, he really is starting to lose his baby face. He’s… cute. Will probably become quite handsome someday.

He’s still very boyish, of course, but right now he actually looks almost seventeen. His features are more defined, his hair is really growing out to a fantastic length (no more buzz cuts, thank God), and when his hand rubs circles into her shoulder and he scrunches up his nose as he laughs at something one of the other boys says (that Tessa didn’t even hear) - her heart goes _thump!_

She freezes as a jolt of realization rips through her.

She finds him attractive. She, Tessa Virtue, is sitting here admiring her best friend’s looks.  

It’s unacceptable.

This absolutely cannot be happening. Not now. Not when her mom said she could finally start dating this year. She knew Parker Simms wanted to ask her out – had been anticipating it happening on the first day of school with nervous excitement all summer – and now suddenly her brain’s decided to go all haywire and develop a crush on Scott instead?

_No way_.

She stands up – interrupting whatever conversation had been going on around her, and making Scott’s arm fall away with a thud against the log they'd been sitting on – three pairs of eyes zeroing in on her with blatant curiosity.

“Are you okay, Tess?” Chiddy asks. Just because she tries to hide it, doesn’t mean that Chiddy doesn’t know her feelings about scary stories. He’s probably blaming her behavior on that, while Eric just looks at her like she’s grown an extra head.

Maybe she has. Maybe it’s her new head that’s decided a crush on Scott would be anywhere in the realm of okay.

“Yeah. Um… bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Scott mouths, and normally she would say yes, (she hates the woods after dark), but she shakes her head vigorously and marches away. She needs time to think. To regain control over whatever fluke in her brain had made her notice Scott in any way other than as a friend.

She’d had a minor crush on Danny early last year for like a week and Scott had been so mad, she can’t imagine how he’d react if he found out that this time he was the unwitting target of her affections.

He’d probably make a face like the one she’s making now as she stares at the outhouse – a mixture of dread and disgust.

Maybe with a dash of pity thrown in for good measure.      

 

By the time she gets back, checking over her shoulder the entire way and practically running to escape whatever monsters hide in the woods, she’s successfully shaken all (most... maybe half) thoughts of Scott being cute right out of her brain.

It can never happen. They’re best friends. It was just a momentary trick of the light.

She grabs another s'more and sits down next to Scott, this time keeping a respectable distance between them and ignoring the questioning look he gives her.  

 

Everything is fine until it’s time for bed - the four of them waddling towards their tents with too-full bellies and the lingering effects of a sugar high. Tessa comes to a stop in front of the orange tent, so seemingly innocuous earlier that afternoon, and it becomes immediately apparent that their plan for Eric and Chiddy to share one tent and her and Scott the other is absolutely terrible.

It’s what they’ve always done, but still.

There’s not really anything she can do about it though. If she asks to swap and share with Chiddy, Scott will want to know why. Not to mention the fact that Chiddy’s mother would absolutely freak out if she found out he’d shared a tent with a girl.

And sharing with Eric is not an option. He snores so loudly that Tessa would end up killing him before the morning.

So she stays quiet and follows Scott inside the tiny two-man tent and when he asks if she’s okay (having noticed her unusual silence) she makes up an excuse about a stomach ache and rolls onto her side, facing away from him.

"Goodnight, Tess." He says quietly, a soft hand on her shoulder-blade, and her heart goes thump for the second time that night. 

The limited space means that even on her side she can feel his presence behind her. The solid weight of him that used to always be so comforting (especially after a night of scary stories), but now only serves as a distraction. It makes her restless and full of an annoying, buzzing energy that persistently hums underneath her skin.

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep, though, and not for the first time she envies his talent for being able to sleep anywhere. His quiet breathing is the only sound other than the vaguely terrifying noises outside, and Tessa tells herself how ridiculous she’s being.

This is Scott. Scott Moir. They’ve been friends for eight years – spend seventy-five percent of their time together. She can hardly remember her life before he was in it. Their families have practically become one big joint group thanks to their friendship. Kate and Alma play Bingo together and swap recipes. Jordan and Charlie have an overlapping group of friends down at Western.

Some stupid little seedlings of a crush are not going to ruin all of that. She won’t let it. She’ll stop those thoughts right now – shove them away so deep they disappear and never bother her again. _Mind over matter, Tessa, mind over matter._

She falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of his breathing. 

        

 

A loud SNAP and the rustling of canvas is the only warning they have before the entire tent caves in on top of them, giving Scott just enough time to open his eyes and hurl himself on top of Tessa to protect her.

“Ah! Scott! What are you doing? What’s happening?” Tessa tries to move around, but between the sleeping bag trapping her legs, Scott on top of her, and the heavy canvas of the tent, she pretty much only succeeds in shifting a few inches and making it worse.

“I think the tent collapsed.” Scott states, sounding slightly stunned, his hair going all staticy from the material of the tent currently being supported by his head and making him look a little ridiculous.

“You _think!?_ ” Later she’ll remember the way it felt to have his arms on either side of her and his body pressed against hers, and it will haunt her dreams, but right now she feels _trapped_ – and Tessa hates feeling trapped. Her heart starts beating wildly and her breathing picks up erratically as she tries not to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, calm down, kiddo.” Scott notices her distress immediately, “It’s going to be okay.”

“We’re stuck. We’re going to die tangled up in shoddy camping gear.”

"We are not going to die.” Scott huffs out a laugh while rolling his eyes, then takes in a deep breath that Tessa can feel through her own chest before yelling, “CHIDDY! ERIC!”

Oh. Right. They’re not actually alone out here.

She can hear the other boys moaning and grumbling, angry at being woken up at the crack of dawn, before Eric yells back, “Go back to sleep, crazy!”

“We can’t! The tent collapsed. Get your lazy asses over here and get us out!”

“PLEASE!” Tessa adds for good measure. She really doesn’t want to be here for a second longer than she has to. For a few reasons. 

There’s rustling from few yards away as the boys get out of their tent, then more rustling right above them as they start fiddling with Scott’s – trying to find the entrance.

"Wow, you guys weren’t kidding.” Chiddy yawns, struggling half-heartedly to find the zipper. Clearly speed is not something either of them possesses in the morning.

Unfortunately, it takes so long that it gives Tessa enough time to start noticing things about Scott that she hasn’t before. Like the little triangle of freckles at the base of his neck. _Has that always been there?_

“You doin’ okay, T?” He whispers, and she really wishes he wouldn’t because it sounds low and sleepy and intimate in a way that’s entirely new for them and she’s pretty sure her cheeks have gone bright red.

“Yep!” Her own reply is loud and sharp and jarring, and they both wince a little.

“Are you sure? ‘Cuz you’re holding on pretty tight.”

Sure enough, her hands are clutching onto the sides of his shirt like it’s her only lifeline, and she hadn’t even realized. She immediately releases her grip and lets her hands fall flat onto the floor of the tent, and she’s almost tempted to slide them underneath her back, just to be safe.

“I didn’t mean you had to let go.” Scott laughs, and Tessa feels it reverberate through her - an oddly pleasant sensation.

“Can you guys please hurry up!?” She calls out, desperate now to remove herself from this awful situation. If this had happened even just a day ago it wouldn’t be a big deal, but in the aftermath of her revelations last night – it’s disastrous.

“Almost got it.” Eric replies, and thankfully only a second later she hears the sounds of a zipper dragging open.

The roof of the tent lifts up higher and light floods the space, quickly blocked out by Chiddy’s grin, “Good morning!”

“Hey, man!” Scott replies, lifting himself up higher and gesturing for Tessa to crawl out in front of him – which she does as quickly as possible after a brief struggle with the sleeping bag that nearly ends in a kick to Scott's groin.

“What were you two doin’ in there that made the whole thing collapse, eh?” Eric asks as soon as she emerges, grinning and looking entirely too happy for this early in the morning.

Tessa stands up and shoves him, “Ew. Don’t be gross, Eric.”

“I’m just saying, Scott knows how to put up a tent.”

“Apparently he doesn’t.” Tessa shoots back.

“Maybe he was too worried about making a different kind of tent.” Eric’s smile is positively wolfish and Scott swats him on the back of the head in response – while also studiously avoiding Tessa’s gaze, his ears tinged pink.

Probably mortified at the implication of him doing anything with _her_. He went to the movies with Stephanie Wallace just last weekend – a blonde with big breasts. She knows his type – it’s just like he’d said Danny’s was last year. Basically: not her.

“It’s too early in the morning for crappy euphemisms, Eric.”

“Exactly.” Tessa nods, “Plus, I don’t think of him like that. It would just be weird.” Well, she did last night… and this morning, but historically speaking she _hasn’t_ so the statement still rings true.

She expects Scott to immediately agree with her. Maybe even say he thinks of her like a little sister (she wouldn’t be surprised. Charlie had called her that last month), but instead he goes quiet and purses his lips – marching over to inspect the tent with Chiddy.

"One of the rods snapped,” Chiddy says after a minute, holding it up and showing them all where it’s broken clean in the middle (not the bungie running through the center, but the actual plastic pole), “Looks like it set off a chain reaction that brought the whole thing down.”

“It is a pretty old tent,” Scott says mournfully, “I guess it just couldn’t take the pressure anymore.”

“I’m sorry I blamed you.” Tessa says, feeling guilty about earlier. She’d been so sure it was user error.

Scott still doesn’t look at her when he says, “It’s fine.”

She can’t help but notice how sad he looks, and honestly it seems a little disproportionate to the very minor tragedy of a broken tent pole, but somehow the furrowed brow and clenching of his jaw only makes him look _more_ attractive.

 

She is in so much trouble.  

 


	7. September 23-24, 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa's plan to get over Scott backfires spectacularly.  
> Also, they're both a bit slow when it comes to each other's feelings. 
> 
> Rating: T

**it was only a kiss, it was only a kiss**

 

**_September 23-24, 2004_ **

**_Ilderton, Ontario_ **

 

As it turns out, forcing yourself to stop having feelings for someone is incredibly difficult. In fact, it’s proving to be almost impossible. The more she tries  _not_ to think about Scott, the more she actually does. It's a vicious cycle that she can't seem to break. 

Three weeks into the school year, and four since the development of her crush, and Tessa is no closer to being rid of it than she was when it started. Which is annoying, because keeping a secret from your best friend of eight years is like an Olympic sport that tests all of her skills at deception. It’s taking pretty much all of her brain power – leaving hardly any left for her studies. She’s never had such a rocky start to the school year before, and she has no idea how she's going to explain her slipping grades to her parents.

She can just picture it now, "Sorry, Mom, instead of finding the angles of a triangle, I keep thinking about finding the right angle to kiss Scott." 

That would definitely not go over well.        

It doesn't help that study hall, the one class that’s supposed to help her keep up with all of her course work, is also the one class that she happens to share with Scott. Before this whole stupid infatuation started she had been really excited about it, but now instead of doing homework and occasionally sharing jokes, she spends most of the hour trying (and failing) not to over-analyze his every move.

It's all of this, combined with her disastrous morning, that has Tessa walking into the library in a foul mood. She’d dropped her foundation on the bathroom tile – shattering the container, found a new pimple on her forehead, had a surprise pop quiz in math, and found out Parker Simms had asked out another girl instead of her. Basically, today just isn’t her day and she really doesn’t have the energy to put up the emotional walls necessary these days for dealing with Scott.

It doesn’t help that her shins still ache from her track meet the day before and walking is kind of painful, which makes her irritable. She sits down next to him and drops her backpack onto the table with a thunk loud enough to earn her a glare and shush from the librarian.

“What’s wrong?” Scott whispers, leaning in close. _Too close_.

“Nothing." Tessa replies, pulling out her dreaded math book, "Just… woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Oh, phew, for a second there I thought you were going to say  _in_ the wrong bed. I was worried.” He chuckles kind of awkwardly and nudges her shoulder with his, and Tessa stifles a sigh. If he’s comfortable teasing her about being in someone else’s bed, then he definitely doesn’t reciprocate her feelings.

She tries to muster up a teasing reply, but all that comes out is, “Ha. Ha.”

“Okay, now I know something’s up. You usually think I'm hilarious. What is it?” He glances down, eyebrows knitted in concern, “Is it your legs?”

Curse him and how well he knows her body. After eight years she really shouldn't be surprised by it anymore, but he still manages to catch her off guard sometimes. Somehow he has no idea that she has feelings for him, but in less than ten seconds he can pinpoint that she's in pain and the exact reason why. It's amazing. 

“Yeah, um… they’re not great. But I won! That’s what matters.”

“I know you did, and that’s awesome," Scott smiles proudly, and Tessa's lips quirk up in their first almost-smile of the day, "But it’s _not_ the only thing that matters. You matter too.” Scott's look grows soft, his eyes full of warmth, and Tessa has to look away. “Here, give them to me.”

Her eyes jump back to his face and she tilts her head, not understanding, “What?”

"Your legs.” He gestures impatiently, “I’ll massage them for you.”

That is probably the worst idea she’s ever heard. She’s wearing a skirt today. _A skirt_. The last thing she needs is to spend the next hour with Scott’s hands running up and down her bare legs.

“No, no. It’s fine. You don’t have to-“

“Tess.” Scott says in that voice of his that brokers no argument, looking at her with an arched eyebrow and patting his thighs. She knows that face. It's the one that means he's ready to argue about this if he has to, and she really shouldn't say yes, but a massage  _does_ sound nice, so she gives in – letting him haul her legs up onto his lap. His hands immediately start working their magic, kneading her calves and shins in just such a way that she dissolves into a puddle of jelly in her chair.

She's supposed to be studying, but instead her eyes drift closed as she lets the sensations wash over her – feeling like a cat that’s found the perfect ray of warm sunlight to sit in.

Her mind drifts to the warm beach at Lake Huron and summer days and chocolate, until his thumb briefly brushes the inside of her knee – which she didn’t know was that sensitive until now – and straightaway her overactive imagination switches gears and starts supplying her with images of his hands moving higher and higher. Up and up until he’s looping her left leg over his shoulder and spreading her wide – taking advantage of the skirt situation – intending to…

_Whoa, stop. Don't go there_ , Tessa tells herself - trying to regain control of her thoughts.

As if reading her mind and trying to sabotage her control, Scott's hand slides higher up her leg, over her knee, and digs into her thigh as he continues massaging her like what he's doing is the most normal thing in the world. The fire in her blood becomes so distracting that she can hardly focus on breathing regularly. All her brain power has zeroed in on what Scott is doing, as if the center of the universe can be found at the end of his fingertips.

She opens her eyes to find out if he’s just as affected as she is (she desperately hopes so), but he looks completely unbothered – idly reaching up to turn the page in his history textbook. He isn’t even looking at her.

Disappointment washes over her, cooling her building arousal and bringing her back down to Earth.

But then his fingers spread wider, his pinky slipping under the hem of her skirt, and heat floods her center so fast it knocks the air right out of her lungs.

Oh God. She isn’t just crushing on him - she wants him. Like _wants,_ wants him. She’s used to these kinds of thoughts about Orlando Bloom and Hayden Christensen, but not about Scott. The boy who taught her how to ice skate and ride a bike and play the best pranks.

He does it again, reaching just a little bit higher this time, and Tessa has to move. _Now_.     

_This can’t be happening,_ she thinks in alarm, _abort, abort, abort!_

Swinging her legs off of his lap, she promptly scoots backwards – the chair nearly toppling over underneath her – and starts throwing all of her things into her backpack.

Scott does look at her then – squinting as he looks back and forth between her and clock on the wall. It’s clearly way too early for her to be leaving.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh… you know, _cramps_.” She exaggerates the emphasis so that he’ll know what she means, and they've been friends long enough that he gets it right away, “I’m going to the nurse's office.”

“Can I help? I could massage your lower back or something.” Poor guy looks like all he wants is to make her feel better, but there’s no way she can let him anywhere near the rest of her body. Not unless she wants to embarrass herself in the middle of the library.

“No!” Her voice is unnaturally high-pitched and blunt, not casual at all, but it’s the best she can do. She’s out the door before she can gauge Scott’s reaction to her sudden retreat.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It was bad enough when she thought she was just mildly infatuated, but now she actually _wants_ him. Wants him, like, _physically_. Enough to fantasize about him. This is an unmitigated disaster! Threat level red. Batten down the hatches and call in reinforcements - this is clearly beyond her abilities to prevent now. She needs help.

 

The nurse lets her leave early, and when Tessa arrives home the house is blissfully empty. Her mom is probably at school (getting her doctorate in psychology so that she can be a marriage counselor) and her dad is at work, which gives her the privacy that she needs.

She briefly considers calling Jordan, but there’s a chance her sister would tell Charlie and then this whole thing would be over before it began. So instead she walks into her dad’s home office and goes to Google for answers.

After typing in _how to get over a crush_ , she clicks on the first article she sees and pulls out a pen and notebook from her backpack. She intends to write down the rules so that she can reference them as needed for as long as it takes to get over her dumb feelings. 

 

** Getting Over Scott **

1. ~~Cut off contact~~ Cut off physical contact.

 

Tessa edits the original first step from the article just slightly. She can’t exactly stop hanging out with him, nor does she want to, but she can put a stop to how much they touch each other. Which, if she thinks about it, is kind of a lot. She looks back over just that week and loses count of their hugs and casual touches before she even reaches Tuesday. 

 

2.Don’t give into temptation.

 

The article defines this as giving into physical temptation with someone you’ve already been intimate with, which obviously doesn’t apply to her and Scott, but she can redefine it to mean _don’t give into temptation for physical contact_ – see: rule number one.

When Scott tries to hug her or kiss her cheek or any of the other million ways he’s incredibly affectionate, she’ll just have to dodge him and come up with an excuse.

 

3.See things as they are.

 

_See the relationship for how it really is,_ the article says, and Tessa sighs. That’s definitely not her problem. She knows that he’s her best friend and nothing more, but if the experts say that she needs to remind herself of that, then she will. Daily.

She pulls out her planner and writes, "Just Friends!" in swirling letters across the front. It looks funny and out of place, but it's something that she looks at every day, so there's no way she'll forget how things really are.

 

4.Meet someone new.

 

Tessa doesn’t particularly like meeting new people – she tends to live by the motto, “I came, I saw, I made it awkward” (which she found out in Latin is veni, vidi, Inconcinnus fecit illud – useless information for her to know, but fun all the same) – but she’s in high school, so how hard could it be to find someone new to have a crush on? Teenagers fall in and out of love all the time. No big deal. 

She resolves that the first boy who shows any interest, provided that he’s not a creep, she’ll try to get to know and maybe date.

_There_ , she thinks with satisfaction – sitting back in her chair and looking over the completed list. Now she has a plan, she can finally get over Scott and everything can go back to the way it was.

 

\------- 

 

She fails step one first thing the next morning when Scott greets her in front of the school with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and one of his mom’s famous strawberry tarts (her favorite). But she gives herself a pass because she was tired and didn’t see it coming and he deserved an act of appreciation for thinking to bring her a treat. 

She fails the second time because Scott blindsides her with a congratulatory hug during lunch after she told him she aced her history test. But she argues that doesn’t count because it wasn’t in any way romantic. Friends can hug each other when they do well on an exam. That's totally within the bounds of normal relationships. 

The third time that day comes after Scott and Chiddy’s soccer game, in which Chiddy stuns the audience with a miraculous save against the other team’s attempt at one last goal - ensuring their team’s win. The stadium erupts in cheers and all the students rush the field, with Tessa and Eric at the front of it all.

She reaches Chiddy first and practically throws herself at him, grinning from cheek to cheek.

“I’m so proud of you!” She yells over the chaos and noise of the crowd, impulsively kissing his cheek. He’d been so nervous before the game about letting everyone down and for him to do this well – she knows he must be bursting with excitement and relief right now.

“Thanks, Tess. I’m just glad it’s over.” Chiddy says with a timid smile, their arms still around each other.

“Over until the next game.” Tessa reminds him with a grin, and he groans.

Scott pops up next to Chiddy, looking practically euphoric, “Tess!” He holds out his arms wide and Chiddy drops his so that she can go to him, but the rules she’d written down the day before pop into her head, and she forces herself to stand still.  _Cut off physical contact, Tessa_. 

“Congratulations, Scott! You played a really great game.”

When she doesn’t move towards him, his brow furrows and his smile falls, “What, no hug?”

“Um… no." Tessa scrambles for an excuse, her eyes landing on the wet spot around his neck, "You’re all sweaty.”

Scott looks at her, then drags his eyes over to look at Chiddy – who’s looking up at the sky like he’d rather be anywhere else, “So is Chiddy.” He speaks slowly, his voice laced with suspicion, and it sets her nerves on edge.

“Yeah, but not as bad as you.” She has no choice but to dig in further if she wants to stick to her plan. 

“That’s never stopped you before.” Scott points out, and he's not wrong. She's never once hesitated to hug him - especially after he's done well at something. 

So, of course, her mouth says the worst thing possible, “He doesn’t smell like you.”

Scott recoils, completely offended now, which is not what she’d intended. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

It means Scott smells good, even when sweaty (she’s not sure how that’s possible, but apparently her stupid brain decided the normal rules for teenage boys and B.O. don't apply to him), and she’s supposed to be avoiding _temptation_.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not. It’s just… basic hygiene.”

Scott glowers at her, “Okay, Tessa. Well if you and your basic hygiene want to come to the party tonight, it’s at my house at seven. Maybe I’ll see you there.” He stomps away across the field, kicking up a chunk of grass as he goes and ignoring the attempts from other students to talk to and congratulate him.

Tessa can feel Chiddy’s eyes on her as she watches Scott walk away, and she dreads hearing what he might have to say.

“What was that?” He finally says, and Tessa closes her eyes for a long moment before turning to face him.

“What?”

“Whatever that was. Scott’s right – you are being weird. I’ve seen you hug him covered head to toe in mud - this isn’t about hygiene. And I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard Scott use your full first name.” He scans her face, looking too closely at her for her comfort, "Something's going on." 

“Leave it alone, Chiddy.”

“Fine,” He acquiesces easily, clearly not wanting to get caught up in the middle of it, “But whatever it is, figure it out fast.”

“I’m trying.” She mutters as he follows after Scott. If only it were that simple. 

 

 

Tessa does end up going to the party, because she promised that she would and, despite the mandatory physical distance rule, she’s still his best friend and wants to support him.

Scott sees her walk in. She knows because their eyes meet across the room the second she opens the front door. But for the first time since they met half a lifetime ago he doesn’t immediately come talk to her – which is a bad sign. She must have really hurt his feelings earlier.

It’s weird trying to navigate a party without him by her side. She's not naturally outgoing like he is, and without him forcing her to be social she ends up grabbing a cup of punch and the latest Harry Potter book and escapes to curl up on the couch in the study - sitting down next to Chiddy, who is, as usual, working on homework. Why he even comes to parties, she has no idea.

It’s very peaceful for exactly twenty-seven minutes until a body takes the seat in between them with force. It takes her exactly half a second to recognize that it’s Scott.

“Hey, T. What are you doing in here?” He drops his arm around her shoulders and peeks over at the page she’s on, “Ah. Dumbledore’s Army, eh? Is that more interesting than my party?”

“Um... well you were busy so…” Her voice trails off as she looks up and finds his face so much closer than she expected. Close enough that she could just lean forward a tiny little bit and…

“You shouldn’t put your arm around me.” The words fly out of her mouth before she’s completely thought them through, and Scott’s expression – which had been a little intense and fixed on her – becomes an impassive mask.

“Why not?” His voice is low, and maybe a little angry, and Tessa finds herself leaning in closer despite all of her careful rules. It's only day two and she's already struggling.

“People will think that we’re dating.” She whispers, licking her lips unconsciously.  

Scott’s eyes drop to follow the action, and for a second she thinks _maybe…_

“People have always thought we’re dating. Who cares?”

She isn’t even sure what the conversation is about anymore when she replies, “I care.”

“Why?” His forehead is practically touching hers, and it makes her hyper-aware of him. Rule one is looking hazier by the second. 

“Because we’re just friends.”

Scott rears his head back and the spell she was under is broken. He rockets off the couch – making her side feeling strangely empty where he was pressed up against her, “You're right, T. Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

He stomps out of the room without looking back. 

“That wasn’t weird at all.” Chiddy mutters next to her, and Tessa jumps. She’d completely forgotten that he was there.

Tessa doesn't say anything, just goes back to her book and tries to focus on how awful Professor Umbridge is, but instead of getting lost in the wizarding world she mostly thinks about Scott’s lips and that funny look in his eye that had been there for half a second before she'd ruined it all.

 

Eventually their hiding place gets found out by the other kids, and she and Chiddy are dragged into the main room (despite their protests) to play games with the rest of the party guests.

Scott doesn't look at her from his position on the floor, even though there's an empty space next to him, but Tessa figures it's safer if she sits down on the big couch next to Eric anyway –  squeezing in between him and the armrest.

When the choice of game is announced, she prays that the lucky penny she’d found that morning will carry her through the night. Spin the bottle isn’t exactly her idea of fun, but she also refuses to be branded a coward or prude. And anyway, the chances of her and Scott landing on each other are fairly slim.

It will be fine. 

 

It gets around to her and she refuses to look at Scott while it spins - relief flooding through her like a tidal wave when the bottle lands on Chiddy.

They smile at each other and lean over the table for a simple kiss. Just a brief press of their lips. It’s nice, and she feels absolutely nothing other than that it was an innocuous kiss between friends.

If only she could figure out how to make herself feel like that about Scott.

On Scott’s turn the bottle _almost_ lands on her, but ultimately the group decides it’s pointing at Eric and Tessa lets out the breath she’d been holding - shoulders sagging as she lets herself relax.

She feels Eric tense up next to her as Scott just laughs and makes exaggerated kissing noises, and her heart goes out to him. He’d told her about his secret a few weeks ago on one of the rare days it was just the two of them hanging out, after first swearing her to confidentiality, and she knows how awkward he must feel right now.

Scott smacks his lips against Eric’s in a ridiculous motion amid whoops and hollers of laughter, and Tessa reaches out to squeeze Eric’s knee just once in support.

On her next turn the bottle lands on herself and she jokingly kisses the back of her hand – even though some people complain that it's against the rules – and feels like maybe the Universe will be kind to her tonight after all.

Meagan Duhamel lands on Eric on her next turn and he seems much more relaxed about it, even going as far as to flirt with her first, and Tessa is glad to see him recovering after the discomfort of before. Although she wishes that he could feel comfortable coming out and being himself. It’s one of the downsides of living in a small town and if she could change it for him, she would.

Her good luck runs out on Scott’s next turn.

She watches as time seems to slow down while the bottle spins. Round and round and round until it creeps to a stop – the neck pointing directly at her. No mistake this time.

Scott looks strangely satisfied, but Tessa can’t think about that right now. Sheer and utter terror has taken over her body as she tries desperately to think of a way out of kissing him.

She could claim that she has a cold, but she's already kissed Chiddy so that won't work. He leans over the table with a twinkle in his eye and Tessa has no choice but to lean in as well, but at the last possible moment she shifts her head and kisses his cheek at the corner of his mouth instead.

Her cheeks feel like fire and she can’t look at him as she sits back in her seat. People are probably going to have questions about that – she’s sure the gossip mill is already churning – but it doesn’t matter. Kissing him on the lips wasn’t an option.

That would be like, the biggest violation of rules one and two  _ever_. 

 

She’s trying to think of an exit strategy - an excuse for why she has to leave early and go home - when the bottle lands on her again.

This time the spinner is Lee, otherwise known as Shirley "The Tank" Adkins. These days he’s become a bit of a preppy academic and made peace with his name (mostly), and the smile he gives her is almost shy as he leans over the table. Tessa leans in too and is surprised to find herself letting him kiss her.

That is, until she hears Scott say, “Game over. Everybody out. Party ends at ten.”

It’s barely nine-thirty, but nobody calls him on it.

“Hey, Tessa, can I maybe walk you home?” Lee asks as everyone around them starts throwing away garbage and putting on their jackets, and Tessa can see Scott watching them from across the room with dark eyes and an unreadable expression.

She knows Scott doesn’t like him, and that he can be fiercely protective of her, but she can take care of herself. And what could be better for getting over her crush than letting another boy walk her home? It was rule number four, after all. She has to try.

“Sure, Lee.” She says, feeling a little flattered by the way his face lights up in response.

She walks over to the coat rack, not shocked to find Chiddy following close behind her. 

“Uh, Tess, what are you doing?” Chiddy whispers as she puts on her jacket.

“Going home?” Tessa replies, the  _obviously_ left unsaid, but heavily implied.

Chiddy warily looks over at where Lee is gathering up everyone's abandoned paper dishes to throw away, “With _him_ though?”

“Why not?” Tessa challenges, and Chiddy backs down.

"I hope you know what you're doing." 

That's the thing though, she has absolutely no idea what she's doing. All she knows is that their whole quartet could explode if she isn't careful, so she has to try and do  _something_. If that means letting Lee walk her home, then so be it. 

 

“Did you know that Harvard has the second largest library in the United States? And four of the levels are underground. Isn’t that cool? I’m going to go there someday.” Lee says confidently as they walk down the sidewalk. “Do you know what school you want to go to?”

“Um… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. My siblings all went to Western.” Tessa replies, hugging her jacket tighter around her body and trying not to shiver. If Scott were here he would have offered her his coat by now. He always wears an extra layer in the winter just for her to borrow. 

“What do you want to do?”

“I…" She stops to think about it. Nobody's really asked her before, "I want to go to Paris and I want to study fashion.” It's the first time she's ever spoken about fashion out loud, up until now it had just been a vague daydream, but it feels right coming out of her mouth. 

“That’s cool. I bet you’d be good at that.”

“You think so?”

“Sure! You always look super cute.” His cheeks turn pink, and Tessa blushes and looks down at the sidewalk. 

“Thanks.”

“Tessa… I’m sorry, you know, for being a bully all those years ago. My therapist says an important part of changing and healing is making things right with the people we hurt. I know I can’t take back the pain, but I am truly sorry.”

“Wow." Tessa looks down at him from the steps to her front door, pleased by the honesty in his face, "Thank you, Lee. I’m really glad that you’re getting help.”

“Me too. I was a jerk. My therapist says it’s because of how my dad is – neglectful and more concerned with being sheriff than being a father. Apparently I was acting out to get his attention, but I’m trying really hard to change so that I don’t end up like him. Do you think maybe we could be friends?”

He looks so hopeful, and maybe it's the list of rules sitting inside her backpack upstairs or the moonlight or her shivering bones that are driving her to get inside as quickly as possible, but whatever it is, Tessa says, "Sure. I'd like that.” 

The grin he gives her is worth it. He's not really her type, per se, but she can at least be his friend and if it helps her get over Scott, then that's just a bonus.

"Goodnight, Tess. See you at school on Monday." 

"Goodnight, Lee." 

 

\-------

 

Tessa’s mostly asleep when she hears the familiar creak of her window opening and the sounds of Scott climbing inside - as familiar as the sounds of her own breathing.

“Tess!” He whisper-shouts, and she cringes at how loud he is. “Are you awake?”

“… Yes.” She replies with a resigned sigh, rolling over and sitting up. She doesn’t bother with the light – doesn’t want to alert her mom to Scott’s presence in a place he most definitely isn’t supposed to be. Especially not this close to midnight. That discovery could only end in disaster. 

“Shirley not with you?” He asks snidely. She can barely see the outline of his face in the darkness, but she knows grumpy Scott well enough that she can picture his expression perfectly.

“Of course not. What’s that supposed to mean?” As if she ever would bring a boy home to her  _bed_. She briefly wonders if Scott hit his head on the way over. 

"I can’t believe you left with him.”

“He walked me home. We talked about Harvard. It’s not a big deal.”

“Harvard.” Scott mutters like he’s never heard a more offensive word in his life.

Tessa sighs and gets out of bed, walking towards his general direction, “What are you doing here, Scott?”

“What was with you tonight?” He counters.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been weird all day. All month, actually. Are you mad at me?”

Crap. He may not have noticed her crush, but he's definitely noticed her behavior. Apparently she hadn't been as good at hiding it as she thought. “No.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

Tessa tries to answer with an obvious response, “I’m not? I’ve literally been with you all day. I’m always with you.”

Unfortunately, he doesn't fall for it for even a second, “You know what I mean.”

"No I don’t.”  _Play dumb, Tessa, maybe he'll give up._

“Yes you do. You wouldn’t hug me after the game-“

“I told you, you were too sweaty.”

“You hugged Chiddy!”

"He wasn’t as bad.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t swear at me!” She can't understand why he's being like this - all petulant and argumentative. It was just a hug! 

“What about at the party then, eh? You kissed Chiddy, but all I get is a peck on the cheek?” 

She doesn't like the way he says Chiddy's name. Like he's an enemy, not one of their best friends. “Why are you mad?”

“Do you like Chiddy, Tess? Tell me honestly. It’s…" His voice gets a little softer, losing some of its edge, "It's okay if you do, I just need to know.”

_Chiddy!?_ She's never once thought of him like that - he's like a brother to her. The very idea almost makes her laugh, "No. We’re just friends.”

“Okay." Scott nods to himself, and she's relieved that he seems to have given up on that idea. "What about _Shirley_? What the hell was that with him? He’s a bully!”

Just like that the anger in his voice is back, and it makes Tessa angry too. 

“Not anymore. He’s in therapy and he’s different now.” She isn't sure why she's defending the other boy, only that it doesn't seem fair for him to be called something that he clearly isn't anymore. 

“Do you like _him_?” Scott steps closer to her, directly into a ray of moonlight, and now she can see his face - the deep frown, the searching eyes full of some indescribable emotion and... fear? 

Tessa wonders if maybe he's freaking out because he thinks if she likes someone, she won't spend as much time with him and Eric and Chiddy. But wild horses couldn't drag her from the three of them, let alone a hypothetical crush on someone else. 

“No. It wasn’t even my idea to play Spin the Bottle, remember? It’s a stupid game.”

“I agree. It’s a dumb, harmless game – up until your best friend refuses to kiss you and instead kisses the guy who broke her wrist.”

She rolls her eyes, “That was over eight years ago, and an accident, and he apologized.” If she can get over it and forgive the guy, so can Scott. 

“You’re missing the point!”

“What is the point!?” She throws up her hands in exasperation. He's standing so close now that they're practically nose to nose, and both of his hands fly up to grasp at her upper arms as he pulls her in even closer.

His eyes drop to her mouth again like they did earlier, and Tessa's heart starts galloping inside her chest, but then the bedroom door opens and the lights flicker on, bathing the room in color and alerting them to the presence of her mother, and Scott jumps backwards.

Kate Virtue stands there in her ivory silk nightgown looking at the two of them with a disappointed frown.

“Hi, Mrs. Virtue.” Scott steps further away from Tessa, looking sheepish. He’s not supposed to be climbing through her window anymore and they both know it.

“Good evening, Scott. A little late for a social call, isn’t it? Is there an explanation as to why you’re standing in my daughter’s bedroom in the middle of the night yelling at each other?”

“Just a disagreement.” He mutters, and Tessa huffs out a mirthless laugh. Understatement of the century. 

"I see... It's quite late, and I think you should go home now." 

Scott nods, sparing a glance at Tessa, before replying, "Yeah, I was just leaving." 

He turns around and heads towards the window, but is stopped by her mom clearing her throat. "I think the front door is perfectly fine, Scott." 

"Of course. Goodnight, Mrs. Virtue."

"Goodnight." 

He trudges out of the room with a scowl on his face and Tessa's heart sinks. She doesn't like leaving things unresolved. Clearly he's upset about something - she just wishes he'd tell her what instead of throwing around crazy accusations about her and other boys. 

"Tessa," Her mom says, forcing Tessa to pay attention to her instead of following Scott home with her thoughts, "I feel like I ought to remind you that Scott isn't supposed to be in here anymore." 

"I know, Mom. He just showed up." 

"Then you should have made him turn around and go."

Tessa folds her arms across her chest defensively, "So what, now I can't even have a conversation with him?" 

"It's not conversation I'm worried about, and you know it." The look her mom gives her is knowing and stern, and Tessa hates it. 

"No, I don't!" She replies, purposely being obtuse. 

Her mom snaps, telling her in a harsh voice, “Tessa, I’d better not ever find him in your bed.”

“Mom! Ew! We’re not like that.” Tessa states adamantly, cringing at how awkward it is to be having this conversation with her mother. It was bad enough the first time they'd had  _The Talk_ , she doesn't need to rehash it now. 

“I’m serious. The last thing you need is to have your dreams derailed by a teen pregnancy.”

“Mom! Stop! We’re just friends. That is never going to happen.”

The very idea is absurd. As if she would ever... or Scott would ever... do that with her... it's just not in the realm of possibility. 

Her mom props her hands up on her waist, looking fierce, "You're right. Because you're never going to be alone with him near a bed." 

Tessa can't resist giving her a snarky reply, "That seems like an impractical ultimatum." Not to mention the fact that, although she's inexperienced, Tessa knows that sex doesn't always require a mattress. 

" _Tessa_ , don't get sassy with me. Just agree please." 

"Fine." Tessa throws her arms up for the second time that night, "I promise." 

"Thank you. Now, go back to bed. I'll see you in the morning." She kisses her forehead and closes the door on her way out, leaving Tessa alone to turn out the lights and climb back into bed. 

What a long, exhausting, nonsensical day. Tomorrow she'll go over to the Moir's house and apologize to Scott for whatever made him so angry, and hopefully he won't be in such a bad mood. She'll reassure him that he doesn't need to be jealous of her becoming friends with other boys, and maybe they'll go get ice cream. 

Although there's a niggling, hopeful, little part of her that thinks maybe, just maybe, his behavior tonight was because he's jealous for another reason. 

It's crazy, and probably not true, but... maybe...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transitioning from friends to lovers is hard and scary, but they'll get there (soon!) :)


	8. October 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Halloween dance and some stargazing. 
> 
> Rating: T

**why oh, why oh, why oh, are we so in denial?**

 

_**October 2004** _

_**Ilderton, Ontario** _

 

_Two Weeks Earlier:_

Scott looks over at Tessa, noticing her small, tired smile and the way her shoulders sag, and his body fills with the urge to make things better.

"It's not the only thing that matters. You matter too." He says it with complete conviction. She matters  _so_ much. To her family, her friends, and especially to him. But Tessa just looks away and he wonders if she has trouble believing it. Scott knows that she has insecurities, and he wishes he could erase them all with a wave of his hand. 

What he can do, though, is provide some relief for her aching limbs, so that's what he's going to do. "Here, give them to me." 

Tessa's face shoots up as she looks at him, and he can already hear the argument forming in her brain. 

"What?" She asks, and Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Your legs. I'll massage them for you." 

He watches as she scrambles for a way to turn down his offer, but Scott's not having it. She's in pain and he can help. That's that. 

All it takes is the firm sound of her name and Tessa caves, letting him pull her legs onto his lap. And sure, maybe Scott should have noticed that she's wearing a rather short skirt today and that that kind of complicates things a little bit, but he's started now so he might as well press on ahead. 

He can keep this professional. Just a platonic leg massage between two friends. 

But then her eyelids drop closed and she practically melts into her chair, and Scott's positive that she has no idea that she's making the most delightful (bordering on obscene) little sounds in the back of her throat. Sounds that would probably embarrass her to no end, but are music to his ears and seem to have a direct line to other parts of his body. 

He really hopes she keeps her eyes closed. 

Her response makes him feel bold, enough to test her reactions to him a bit, so he starts moving his hand a little higher. Just enough to brush the inside of her knee - making her twitch a little. Scott takes that as a good sign, so he continues on a little higher, working his hands into her thigh muscles and watching carefully as her pink blush darkens into red and spreads down her neck and underneath the collar of her shirt. 

It's too much, and Scott's forced to look away and distract himself by pretending to study his textbook.  _Get it under control, Moir_ , he thinks desperately. He can tell out of the corner of his eye that Tessa's looking at him, and the last thing he needs is for her to notice his... situation before he can force it back down. 

Absentmindedly, his fingers spread out and clamp down a little tighter on her leg as he tries to regain control, and the shiver that runs through her is obvious. 

He wants to look at her so badly, but they're in the library and the librarian is watching them closely over her horn-rimmed glasses (such an old stereotype, Scott can't believe they actually exist), and he knows if he looks at her now he's finished.

So instead he does it again, intentionally this time, hoping to garner an even more obviously positive reaction. 

Instead, he's rewarded by Tessa running away and kissing two boys that aren't him. 

 

\------- 

 

Scott lays underneath the maple tree in his backyard surrounded by the first yellow and orange fallen leaves of the autumn and wonders where he went wrong. 

He tries to be a good person. He helps his mom out around the house and the arena, is considerate of others, polite, and a good friend. He's been true to his decision from last year to give Tessa space to figure out if she likes him the same way he likes her (see: a lot and so much more than as friends).

Okay, maybe he's been more physically affectionate and free with his cheek kisses, but he can't help it, and Tessa's never asked him to stop so he assumes she mustn't mind. 

He tries really hard  _not_ to fantasize about her, even though she just keeps getting more and more beautiful and he fails more often than not (and that leg massage now haunts him nightly). 

But just when he'd thought that  _maybe_ they were finally on the same page, or at least getting there, she'd thrown him for a complete loop. The big, twisty, rollercoaster kind of loop that gives you a headache and leaves you feeling woozy after. 

After eight years, Scott thought he had a pretty good read on her behavior. They've had entire conversations with just their eyes before (it drives Eric and Chiddy nuts) and he's always the first one to know if she's happy, sad, disappointed, angry, etc. 

The fact that he can't get a read on her now might be the most disturbing thing of all in this entire situation. 

Basically, Scott Moir is seventeen years old and only certain of three things: one, he's tired of waiting for his body to look its age, two, he has the best family and friends in the whole world, and three, Tessa Virtue is hiding something from him. 

Their friendship has been a little... tense... in the weeks after their fight, and while Scott doesn't regret what he said - she  _is_ being weird - he does regret the way he said it. He probably shouldn't have gone to her room so late at night and while he was in such a bad mood, but in his defense, he'd needed answers. 

Answers about why she won't touch him with a thirty-nine and a half-foot pole, and about whether or not she is secretly in love with someone else.

And he'd needed... he'd just needed to see her. 

The fact that he'd almost kissed her - standing there in the dark bedroom, Tessa in her adorable Loony Tunes pajamas - was completely unintentional. Blame it on the fact that he's been wanting to kiss her for so long that her proximity had drawn him in like a magnet. He knows he would have gone for it if they hadn't been interrupted by her mother. 

But ultimately he's glad that it didn't happen that way. He doesn't want their first kiss, if they ever have one, to be after an argument - especially one that makes him sound so jealous (which he is, but still, he doesn't want it to be tainted). It should be sweet and romantic and the stuff of movie screens. That's what Tessa deserves. 

"Scott," His mom's voice rings out from somewhere behind him, probably through the kitchen window, "Come set the table for dinner, please!" 

With a heavy sigh he gets to his feet, brushing off any stray leaves that are trying to hitchhike on his clothes. He's been patient for almost eighteen months, ever since first realizing his feelings, he can afford to continue being patient now. If Tessa still isn't ready, then she isn't ready. He isn't going to try and force her to be with him. 

Instead he'll try to act normal and ignore the distance she's putting between them in the hope that eventually she'll explain herself. 

Halloween is coming up soon, and it's always been one of their favorite holidays. He'll find her at school tomorrow and ask about coordinating their costumes like they always do and they can go to the dance like they've done the past two years and maybe,  _maybe,_ things will work out. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning Scott walks down the newly decorated hallways of the school and laughs. Most of the decorations are either overly childish or so covered in red paint in an attempt to be scary that they're indistinguishable. 

"Hey, Scott, there you are." Chiddy comes jogging up to him, backpack bouncing around wildly as he does, "I need to talk to you." 

Scott focuses on spinning the dial for his locker combination, only half paying attention as he says, "What's up?" The locker tends to stick unless he jiggles it just right on the last number. 

"I'm assuming you haven't heard yet?" 

"Heard what?" Scott slams his fist against the stubborn locker and it pops open with a loud clang. 

"That Tess-"

"Hey, Scott." Alexis, the girl he'd gone on a date with last year, leans up against the locker next to his, twirling her hair, her lips shining bright red with a freshly applied coat of lipstick. He glances at her, and is briefly concerned by the calculating look in her eyes.

"Hi." 

"Do you want to go to the Halloween dance with me?" She doesn't waste any time getting straight to the point, and while Scott is surprised, he's also grateful. It means he doesn't have to waste any time telling her no. 

"Oh, I'm going with Tess. Thanks though." 

Chiddy coughs loudly from behind him, and Alexis smirks. 

"Oh, you haven't heard? She's going with Lee Adkins." 

Scott freezes with one hand grabbing onto a textbook and the other hand sliding off the locker door and dangling at his side, his brain short-circuiting in an attempt to understand the words that she's just said. No matter how hard he tries, they just don't make any sense. 

"What?" 

"Yeah. He asked her over the weekend I guess. We all assumed that meant you were finally fair game." She reaches out and starts twirling the strings of his hoodie like she'd done with her hair, and Scott doesn't have the presence of mind to stop her. 

"Chiddy?" He turns to look at his friend, who he knows will tell him the truth. This has to be some kind of joke. 

"It's true. I was trying to tell you." 

His face is so full of sad sympathy that Scott has no choice but to believe him.  

"Uh... I, uh, I guess yes. I'll go with you." He tells Alexis as if in a trance, hardly noticing the way she claps her hands together and kisses his cheek - leaving behind a bright red stain where her lips were. 

"David and Victoria Beckham. That's who we're going to be." 

"Do I get a choice?" 

"Nope. I already have the dress. Make sure you get a tux and a bow tie." She saunters away with an extra sway in her step, but Scott doesn't pay her any attention. 

Chiddy pats him on the shoulder, "I'm sorry, Scott." 

Shaking himself, Scott pastes a smile on his face and shrugs off Chiddy's concern. "What's there to be sorry about? I've got a hot date, Tess has a date, Eric said yes to Meagan. Really it's just you we should all be feeling sorry for." 

He slams his locker closed with more force than necessary, and Chiddy sighs, "Okay, Scott."

Sometimes, Scott thinks the other boy sees too much. 

 

* * *

 

Cheap chaos. That's the easiest way to describe the transformation the gymnasium has undergone. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, multicolored lights flash in a blinding pattern from the DJ's booth, and the floor is sticky with spilled punch. 

The deafening repetitious sound of Usher singing, "Yeah (yeah) shawty got down an' said come and get me," makes conversation practically impossible. 

Not that Scott minds. In the twenty minutes since he'd picked Alexis up at her house he's heard nothing but complaints about his costume. 

She'd wanted him to wear a tux, but Scott only plans on wearing a tuxedo once in his life - his wedding day. So instead he'd worn a white England polo shirt and a fake tattoo sleeve he'd found in a costume store and carefully spiked his hair like Beckham - spraying on temporary yellow hair dye to create frosted tips. 

Apparently his efforts aren't good enough for Alexis, who had come in a skin tight leather mini dress and a wig cut to match Victoria's hair and wedge heels that look incredibly uncomfortable. 

Scott spots Tessa the minute they walk into the room - her brown hair done up to be curlier and bushier to match her Hermione Granger costume. She's smiling at Lee, who's dressed as Draco Malfoy, as they dance together (well, she dances, Lee just kind of jerks his body from side to side like a Peanuts character), and looks like she's having a genuinely good time, and Scott scowls. 

He supposes the other guy is good looking, if you're into tall, blonde, preppy guys with no rhythm, but Scott still doesn't get why she would say yes to him. Halloween has always been  _their_ holiday. He can't comprehend what could possess her to break with tradition unless... unless it's because she lied and she does like Lee. 

"Do you want to dance?" Alexis asks, holding out her hand, but that's the last thing he wants to do right now. 

"Let's get snacks instead. Before the good ones are gone." 

"I'm not really hungry.  _I'm_ going to go dance." She waits with an expectant expression, her perfectly styled eyebrows arching towards her hairline, but Scott doesn't follow her and eventually she walks away in a huff and finds a crowd of her friends to dance with. 

"Hey man." Eric comes up beside him at the food table, scooping out a generous serving of punch with the ladle into his plastic cup. 

"Hey." 

"Having fun?" Eric sounds just as grumpy as Scott feels, so he lets himself answer with sarcasm instead of putting on a happy face. 

"A blast. You?" 

"Honestly? I'm hiding." Eric confesses, stealing a glance over his shoulder. Like a gazelle waiting for the lioness to reveal herself. 

"From what?" 

"From Meagan. She's intense, man. She's a meter and a half of pure determination and fire." 

Scott chuckles, turning around to lean up against the table while they both sip their drinks, "And that's bad?" 

Eric goes quiet, looking contemplative, before answering, "It's just not what I'm looking for." 

He wonders what Eric  _is_ looking for. Now that he thinks about it, he's not sure he's ever heard him talk about what kind of girls he likes. "Maybe she mellows out after a while." 

"Maybe. What about your date? Where did she disappear to?" 

"I don't know. Out there dancing with her friends I guess. We didn't really hit it off." 

"It's weird that you're not here with Tess. I mean, I guess the kid had to grow up and start dating eventually, but I always assumed when she did that it would be..." Eric's voice trails off as he glances at Scott, then looks back at the crowd.

"Would be what?" 

"Um... would be you, I guess. That's kind of what everybody expected." 

Scott doesn't try to deny that that's what he'd expected too. He's known Eric his entire life - there's no point in trying to lie. "Well, she found somebody else instead." 

"Did she? Looks like she's alone right now." Eric gestures with his cup towards the side of the dance floor, where Tessa is currently bobbing her head to the music and standing all by herself. Blonde Tank nowhere in sight. 

"Should I-"

"Yes." 

Scott nods and sets his drink down, then walks towards Tessa. She sees him coming and smiles tentatively at him. 

"Hey, T. All alone?" 

She plays with the hem of her grey knit sweater and struggles to maintain eye contact with him. Like she's embarrassed or ashamed. "Yeah. Lee had to go to the bathroom. I think the shrimp he ate before we got here might have been bad." 

"Oh," He's probably supposed to feel sorry for the other boy, food poisoning sucks, but he doesn't, "Do you want to dance?" 

Tessa looks at his outstretched hand, Maroon 5 wailing in the background about a love that's taken its toll, and Scott waits with baited breath until she finally reaches out and takes it. 

"Okay." 

He leads her out onto the dance floor just as the song transitions into  _The Reason_ by Hoobastank, and all the other kids pair off - treating it like a slow song. 

For a second Scott worries that Tessa will panic and run away again at the prospect of slow dancing with him, but she surprises him by gently placing her hands on his shoulders and letting him put his on her waist. 

They sway back and forth, and Scott scrambles for something to say that isn't, "God, Tess, you're so pretty." 

Instead, he manages to say something more normal. "I like your costume." 

"Thank you." 

"Although... you and I could have been Harry and Hermione, which is objectively a much better combination." He makes sure to sound like he's teasing - the last thing he wants is to pick another fight right now. 

"I'm sorry. I know we always do Halloween together, but Lee asked me while I was thinking about math so I wasn't really paying attention. I'd said yes before I even realized what he'd said, and then I couldn't take it back." 

The knot inside Scott's chest loosens a little at her apology. Maybe it really all was just a misunderstanding and she hadn't purposely ditched him.

"It's okay, kiddo. I mean, I was disappointed, but I should have asked you instead of just assuming." 

Tessa fiddles with the collar of his shirt and Scott changes the subject. 

"This song is kind of over-dramatic, don't you think?" 

"I like it." Tessa replies, still playing with his collar - her hand occasionally grazing his neck. It's incredibly distracting. "He sounds like he's really sorry for hurting her. I like imagining why he broke her heart, and what made him realize how much he really loves her and come back."

"Why, Tessa Virtue, you're a closet romantic." Scott grins, tugging her hair like he used to do when they were little, and she lets out a giggle. 

"Don't tell anybody." 

"Cross my heart and hope to die." He says with mock solemnity, making Tessa laugh a little harder, and all feels right in the world again.  

After a moment, she looks up at him curiously, "Who would you have wanted us to dress up as this year?" 

"I was thinking Romeo and Juliet." He decides to be honest, even though she might find the answer too 'love story.' The frilly 16th century shirt is hanging in his closet at home next to a pair of brown leather pants, so he might as well confess. 

But Tessa doesn't seem upset or uncomfortable. Instead, her green eyes are fixed on him - turning into weird shades of color as the flashing rainbow lights play across her face - and she whispers, "Really? Why?" 

"I think we'd look good together," Scott whispers back, "In those costumes, I mean."

"Hey, Tessa," They're interrupted by the return of Lee, and the song moves on to another upbeat dance number - turning the floor back into an amateur mosh pit. 

"Oh, hey," Her hands drop away from his shoulders and Scott can't help the stink eye he gives Lee, even if the other boy isn't even looking at him, "Are you feeling any better?" 

"No... I think I need to go home. I'm sorry." 

"That's too bad, man," Scott cuts in, "But don't worry, I can get Tess home." 

Lee glances at him, his face looking peaked, and nods, "I'll call you later, Tessa." 

"Feel better!" She calls out after him, not acting particularly sorry to see him go, and Scott feels triumphant. 

"Do you want to keep dancing?" 

She smiles at him and takes his hand again, "Yeah. I do." 

 

They stay until the end of the dance, laughing and twisting along to every song, never leaving the dance floor. They're joined by Chiddy (who had been asked out after all) and Eric and tiny, intense, Meagan, and the six of them go crazy and have a blast until they're literally kicked out by the assistant principal. 

"Let's not go home right away." Tessa says after climbing into his truck, and that plan sounds fine by him. 

"Where do you want to go?" 

"Let's go out by the water tower." Tessa suggests, and Scott smiles. That's their favorite place to stargaze, and it means Tessa's definitely not in a rush to part with him. 

They stop at Tim Horton's for hot chocolate and a box of assorted timbits before driving out there and pulling off onto the dirt road, surrounded by cornfields. 

Once parked, they grab the old, ratty blanket Scott keeps in his truck for this very purpose, and climb into the truck bed so that they can comfortably look at the night sky. 

"Teach me a constellation." Tessa says, the same thing she's always said since they were little and Scott had shown her his brand new astronomy book he'd gotten for his tenth birthday. He'd carefully memorized the entire thing from cover to cover, just so that he always had an answer for her. 

"You see that one?" Scott asks, taking her hand in his and tracing a wonky W shape with their fingers, "That's Cassiopeia." 

Tessa pulls his arm around her, cuddling into his side in a way he'd thought she might never do again after the awkwardness of the last few weeks, and warmth spreads through his body like warm honey.

"Tell me about her." 

“She was a queen." Scott explains, recalling what he'd read so long ago, "The Greeks believed that she offended Poseidon by saying that her daughter Andromeda was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, so Poseidon punished her by putting her up in the sky – forced to cling to the North star as she rotates around it, sitting upside down in her throne.”

Tessa hums quietly, pondering his words, before replying, "I don't think that he thought that through." 

Taken by surprise, Scott chuckles, "What do you mean?" 

“Well, Cassiopeia is remembered forever now, but who ever thinks about sea nymphs anymore? Nobody.”

She makes a good point, and Scott grins as he pulls her in closer, “You're right. I guess Poseidon couldn’t _sea_ the consequences of his actions. Maybe he should have _fished_ for more information before he _waved_ all chances of the nymphs being remembered instead of the arrogant queen.”

Tessa groans loudly at all of his puns, “Oh my God. Stop.”

" _Water_ you talking about? I'm not doing anything.”

Tessa pokes his ribs, but then looks up at him mischievously, "You're a real son of a  _beach_." 

He pretends to be offended, but neither of them can keep up the pretense for long and they both dissolve into peals of laughter. 

Eventually they manage to calm back down, and Tessa lays her head on his arm, snuggling into his side - surprising him again that night by reaching up to link the fingers of her left hand with the ones on his right where it rests over her collarbone. 

"Scott?" She says quietly, and he can tell from her tone that she's about to say something serious. 

"Yeah, T?" He gulps nervously, hoping that she isn't about to tell him about having a crush on Lee or something. 

"I'm sorry that I've been so weird. And that I ruined our Halloween tradition." 

 _Oh_. They're actually going to talk about the awkwardness. That's much better than he expected. 

"You didn't ruin anything, kiddo," He plants a kiss on top of her head for added reassurance, "Are you going to tell me why you've been so distant, though? Was it something I did?" 

"No! No." She rushes to reassure him, "It's not you, it's me." 

"That's so cliché, Tess.” He teases, “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No, I just meant – I don’t know. Blame puberty and hormones and the fact that I’m a fifteen year old girl. Sometimes we just don’t make sense.”

“I’ll say. I can’t believe you said yes and went to the dance with _Shirley_.” Scott can't resist throwing another jab at the guy. He just doesn't like him. 

“He’s really not so bad, you know? You guys could probably be friends now.”   

Scott snorts loudly, “I seriously doubt it.”       

Tessa rolls her eyes and pinches his side, “You’re so stubborn.”

“That’s rich, eh? Coming from you. You’re worse than me!”

“Am not!” Tessa sits up, mouth dropping open in pretend outrage, "You take that back, Scott Moir!" 

“No way." Scott sits up too, putting his hands on his hips in a mirror image of her, "You are way more stubborn than I am!”

"Am not!”

"Are too!" 

"Am not!" 

"Are too!" Scott reaches out to tickle her as they argue, going straight for the ribs - her weakest spot - and she squeals, falling backwards to escape his fingers. 

Scott follows after her, unwilling to give up the lead, and keeps tickling her mercilessly. "Admit it! Admit it and I'll stop!" 

Tessa's eyes open wide as she shouts defiantly, "Never!" 

"Then you asked for it!" Scott warns, doubling down on his tickle attack until she's a writhing mess of laughter and tears underneath him. 

 _When did she end up like that? How did he end up on top of her?_ Scott stops tickling her as soon as he realizes what position they're in. So much like that morning in the tent when they were camping, and yet entirely different. 

For one thing, Tessa isn't looking at him in terror, instead she's looking up at him like she wants...

Someone taps loudly on the side of his truck with something metal, grabbing their attention.

“Am I going to have to arrest you kids for public indecency?” The Sheriff asks, shining his blinding flashlight directly into their faces.

 _Damn it._ The man has the worst timing ever. 

“No, sir. Personally I think Tessa is a pretty decent person in public.” Scott replies cheekily, earning a warning glance from the perpetually grumpy man.

"Watch it, Moir. Talking back to an officer of the law is a crime." 

Scott's pretty sure that's not true, but he shuts his mouth anyway. Better not to risk being on the receiving end of the man's ire any more than they already are. 

“I think I’d better take Miss Virtue back home before this progresses any further. Her parents will want to know that you two were out here misbehaving.”

"No. _Please_ don’t.” Tessa begs, scrambling out from underneath Scott to kneel as she pleads with the sheriff, "We weren't doing anything wrong, and I'll just end up getting grounded for no reason." 

But that just makes Sheriff Adkins smile. A weird, mottled grin that's slightly unnatural. Apparently he still hasn't forgiven her for the whole ice cream incident, “Come on, young lady. Let's go.”

"Bye, Scott." Tessa says morosely as she moves to climb out of the truck, but not before Scott pulls her in for a tight hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" 

She nods, and as he watches her get into the back of the police cruiser Scott thinks that this day ended so much better than it started (even with the police escort home and the inevitable wrath of Kate). 

Things are normal again, maybe even better than normal. They'd danced, they'd cuddled, and they'd almost... he's pretty certain they were on the road to something there at the end. And Tessa didn't recoil or push him away at any point of it. 

Scott whistles the entire drive home, letting himself freely fantasize about kissing Tessa, and thinks that _finally_ he has good reason to hope.

 


	9. December 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!
> 
> Rating: T

**it's that pivotal moment**

 

_**December 2004** _

_**Ilderton, Ontario** _

 

Thirty days. 

That's how long Tessa was grounded after being driven home in the back of a police car at midnight and having to listen to the sheriff tell her mother what she'd been caught doing (or not doing, as the case may be). 

It was the longest punishment she'd ever received, and that wasn't even the worst part. 

Despite her insistence that nothing had happened, that it was all a misunderstanding and that she and Scott are nothing more than friends (maybe, the jury's still out on that), her mom had dragged her into the kitchen the next morning and made her practice putting condoms on all the bananas. 

"I'd rather you weren't sexually active yet, but if you are then I want you to be prepared," Kate had said, her face a mixture of resigned determination and worry. 

Tessa had repeated herself again and again that there was nothing for her mom to be worried about, but she still didn't let Tessa stop until she could do it correctly and efficiently. 

Then, as if that wasn't already truly the stuff of nightmares, the next day her mom had forced her to sit down in the living room after school and watch The Miracle of Life (rewinding the birthing scene  _twice_ for emphasis). 

"Yesterday was about preparation, today is about  _why_ you shouldn't be doing it at all." She'd said firmly, making Tessa cringe.

It had kind of worked, in the fact that now Tessa is completely terrified of labor and delivery, although she's not sure it convinced her to avoid sex completely like her mother had hoped. 

 

All that solitary confinement did mean one thing though: plenty of time to obsess over her relationship with Scott. 

She'd gone into the Halloween dance with four rules and a commitment to snuffing out her crush and somehow ended up leaving with him.

Tessa had tried her best to keep her distance. But in the end, after a few weeks of pushing him away, she just  _missed_ him. 

Almost the second he'd asked her to dance, she had succumbed - wanting to be close to him again. Wanting to laugh and make him smile. It had been a reminder of how good things can be between them, when she isn't fighting it, and she'd rejoiced at the opportunity to be with him and just be  _them_. Tessa and Scott. The Dynamic Duo.

Maybe the solution to her crush isn't to try so hard, but instead to carry on normally and let the feelings fade on their own. 

Except... something about that night - cuddling in the bed of his truck, staring at the stars, the  _moment_ right before they'd been caught - has been pestering her ever since it happened.

Scott was upset when she kissed other boys. He likes being physically affectionate with her. He'd been sad when she went to the Halloween dance with somebody else. He had wanted them to dress up as Romeo and freaking Juliet. And then that night in the truck she's about sixty-five percent sure (maybe seventy-five, on a good day) that he was going to kiss her. 

Since then, Tessa's compiled a list of all the things Scott's been doing that seem like a little more than something friends would do, even for them. 

1.He's started walking her to class and offering to carry her books. 

2.He climbed up to her window a few days into her prison sentence (risking her mother's wrath if he got caught) to give her a mix CD that he made, claiming that it was to help her, "Survive being apart from him." 

3.Said mix CD seems awfully romantic, even if the first few songs are ridiculous choices like Folsom Prison Blues and Jailhouse Rock. 

4.As soon as her punishment ended, he'd invited her to go to the movies - but not with Eric and Chiddy, only with him. And he'd bought her popcorn and a lemonade and put his arm around the back of her chair. 

5.He'd started leaving Thoughtful Tuesday notes in her locker (as he calls them). Just little things like, "You look pretty today" or "Good job on your math test. I knew you could do it, kiddo." 

Tessa knows that she's inexperienced and a little naive, but she's beginning to think that he might like her back. 

The problem is, he hasn't actually said anything. His behavior outside of those five things hasn't changed, and Scott's been super affectionate her whole life so it's not like what he's doing is _entirely_ out of the realm of normal. So her feelings are an even more of a confusing tangled ball of yarn than they were before. 

If he would just give her a definitive sign, she would go for it. 

 

\-------

 

It's Friday, December twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve. The house smells like roasting turkey and Christmas cookies, Burl Ives wishes them a holly, jolly Christmas on the record player, the tree is decked with their favorite ornaments, fresh snow blankets the ground outside, and Tessa, Jordan, and Kate are all wearing matching cashmere Christmas sweaters - an early Christmas present for their family photo. 

It's Tessa's favorite holiday, and she can't help but smile as she hands her mother another tray of molasses cookies ready to go in the oven. She can hear her brothers and her dad laughing as they watch _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ in the other room, Jim Carrey's instantly recognizable voice saying, "One man's toxic sludge is another man's potpourri," and she laughs too. 

"Hey Mom, are you going to make wassail again tonight?" Jordan asks from her spot perched on the barstool at the counter, carefully cutting shapes into the cookie dough for Tessa to put onto the baking sheet. 

"I'm planning on it, sweetie." Her mom replies cheerfully, "Tessa, honey, will you look in the cupboard and see if we have any cloves in there? I'm worried I forgot to pick some up at the store." 

"Sure, Mom." 

For all that they might disagree about Scott, and for how strict her mom can be, they do love each other, and it's times like this that remind her why. These quiet days when the family's all together and they're just enjoying each other's company as they bake. It's perfect. 

What isn't perfect is the fact that Tessa cannot find the jar of cloves anywhere on the spice shelf in the cupboard, or on the shelf above or below it. 

"Bad news. No cloves." 

"I was afraid of that," Her mom sighs, "I'll give Alma a quick call and see if she happens to have any. The Daisy Mart is closed today so she's our only hope." 

It turns out that Alma  _does_ have cloves - "plenty to spare and share" - which is how Tessa ends up smothered by two scarves and her warmest winter coat, heading out in the direction of Scott's house. 

She knocks on the door loudly, then shoves her hands underneath her armpits to try and ward off the chill. It may have stopped snowing, but there's no way the temperature is above freezing. Every time she exhales little white puffs float up towards the grey sky.

The door opens and Scott grins the instant he sees her, "Tess! What a great surprise!" 

"Hey," She replies, her teeth rattling and making her voice shake, "My mom sent me over to get a jar of cloves from Alma. I guess she has extra? And my mom wants to make wassail tonight." 

"Ah, yes, the traditional Virtue Christmas wassail." Scott nods, "You gotta have that. Come inside before you turn into a block of ice on my porch. I can tell that you're freezing." 

He doesn't have to ask her twice, and she practically knocks him over in her haste to get inside the warm, cozy house. 

She loves the Moir house - always has. It's so delightfully chaotic compared to her own home and it feels so lived in. 

"My mom's out in the backyard having a snowball fight with Charlie and Danny."

Tessa snorts in surprise, "Are you serious?" 

"Dead serious. She's got a pretty lethal aim, too. But I know where the cloves are, so come on." 

She follows Scott down the hall and into the kitchen, her body still randomly jerking as the chills slowly dissipate. 

"Can you stay a bit? You look like you could use a chance to warm up. Do you want some hot chocolate?" He asks, retrieving the cloves from the spice rack and handing them to her. She slips the jar into her coat pocket and nods. 

"Hot chocolate sounds amazing." 

Her layers prove to be a nightmare though as she tries to untangle herself and get them off, and it doesn't take long before Scott is coming to her rescue. 

"Here, T, let me help." 

He unwinds each scarf, careful not to accidentally pull her hair, before unzipping her coat and helping her shrug it off her shoulders. Once he's done he tosses everything carelessly onto the back of one of the kitchen chairs, one of the scarves sliding to the floor. 

"There," He reaches up and tucks a frizzy strand of hair behind her ear, "Now you don't look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man anymore." 

Tessa laughs and shoves him towards the stove where the water is boiling and ready for the chocolate powder to be added, "Get to work, Moir. Before I die of hypothermia." 

"There are plenty of ways to warm you up, T, I'm not too worried about it." He winks and Tessa's smile freezes on her face as she tries to decipher what on earth he was trying to imply with that statement. 

Is he  _flirting_ with her? 

She watches and waits as he prepares two mugs - handing one of them to her before leaning against the counter beside her, his shoulder bumping hers. 

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Oh!" He says suddenly, reaching around her to open the cupboard by her head, boxing her in, "I forgot marshmallows!" 

His sudden proximity is overwhelming. Does he have to stand so close? Did he have to reach around her like that? Does he have to smile at her and smell so good and be so nice? 

It's like he's doing all of this on purpose. Except she doesn't know what the purpose is because he won't just  _make a move_. 

Instead he drops the mini marshmallows into her mug and they chat about what presents they got for various family members and the weather and school - until they finish their drinks and it's time for Tessa to leave. 

"Come on," Scott says, gathering up her stuff, "I'll walk you to the door." 

Tessa places her mug in the sink with a disappointed sigh and follows him back down the hallway. So much for his flirting. This afternoon has turned out to be completely ordinary.

"Will you help me put my coat on?" She asks, moving to stand in front of him in the entryway and raising her arms, but instead of looking at her, Scott's eyes are fixed on something above them. 

"Hey, look at that." He shifts nervously from foot to foot, his ears turning pink, and Tessa follows his gaze up to the little bunch of green leaves with white berries that hangs from the light fixture. 

"Mistletoe." She whispers, her stomach tying itself into knots. 

Is this a coincidence? Something his mom put there for fun? Or his brothers as a prank? Why would Scott... this is his house. Surely he must have known that it was there. 

He finally looks at her, gulping loudly but full of determination, and Tessa's own throat has gone dry as she watches him drop her stuff to the floor and step closer. 

His hands come up to rest on her waist, the heat of them bleeding through her shirt and into her skin like a brand. 

_This is happening. This is happening. This is happening_ , is all Tessa can think - the words spinning around in quick repetition as Scott leans in closer, enough so that their noses bump together. 

"Cheek kisses don't count." He murmurs, his breath scattering across her mouth in a warm gust of air. 

"What?" 

"Like Spin the Bottle. You can't do that again." 

Feeling the need to defend herself, Tessa starts saying, "That was self-preservation, I-" but the words die in her throat. 

He's  _so close_. 

Scott's eyelids have either fallen shut or he's looking downwards - she isn't sure - but either way she figures this is the moment that he's going to finally kiss her. 

Tessa closes her own eyes, waiting with anticipation for him to move that last little distance. Her heart beating so loudly she swears they can hear it all the way outside.

But he doesn't. 

They just stand there, forehead to forehead, and after a minute Tessa opens her eyes - about to ask him what he thinks he's doing - when he speaks.

"Come on, Tess. Choose me." He says it so quietly that she's not sure that she heard him correctly at first, but then it dawns on her - he wants it to be her choice. If she backs away now, they can continue being best friends and nothing will change, but if she kisses him...

In the end, there is no choice to make. 

His lips taste like warm chocolate pressed against hers, and even though the kiss is simple and sweet, somehow Tessa can feel her whole world shifting around it. 

Scott's arms slide around her waist as he pulls her flush against the front of his body, deepening the kiss, and Tessa whimpers a little in response. An unexpected noise that earns her an extra squeeze around the ribs from Scott. 

Tessa loves a lot of things including, but not limited to, chocolate, getting one hundred percent on a test, the beach, and fashion.

They all pale in comparison to kissing her best friend. 

The back door of the house flies open in the other room and Charlie's voice calls out, "Scott, are you in here? Are you coming back out to play or not!?" 

Tessa jumps at the unexpected intrusion and pulls away, happy and relieved to find Scott smiling at her so widely that his cheeks must be aching. 

The loud sounds of Charlie stomping through the house in his winter boots means that they only have seconds before they're found, so Scott quickly murmurs, "We'll talk about this later, yeah?" 

She nods and ducks her head, smiling shyly - an emotion she hasn't felt around Scott in a very long time - and he surprises her by planting a kiss on her forehead. 

"I'm coming, Charlie! Tess just came over to borrow something." 

_Yeah, your lips, apparently_ , Tessa thinks, giggling a little at herself. She's never done drugs (and never will), but she imagines this is what being high must feel like. 

"Oh hey, Tutu." Charlie comes around the corner and greets her with a friendly wave, "Merry Christmas." 

"Hi, Charlie. Merry Christmas to you too." She hopes that he can't tell how red her cheeks are (they feel like they're on fire), or how breathless she is, or that his little brother had just been holding her in a not-so-platonic kind of way only seconds ago. 

Unfortunately, the older boy's eyes move up to the mistletoe above them, and he smirks. "Huh, would you look at that. I guess we'll see you in a sec, Scottie. I can see you have better things to do. Carry on." 

Tessa hurries to pick up her coat and scarves and starts putting them on, desperate to avoid any teasing. She wants to cherish this development, not be embarrassed. 

"Actually, I was just leaving. My mom will probably be worried about me." 

She opens the door and steps back out into the cold, which bites at her skin and immediately steals her already labored breath away. 

"Wait, Tess, we should talk before-"

"I know. We will. But I have to go." Impulsively she puts her hands on his shoulders and kisses his cheek, making _him_ blush this time. "Merry Christmas, Scott." 

 

* * *

 

 

_**New Year's Day, 2005** _

_**Coldstream Conservation Area** _

 

Every year on New Year's Day the Virtues have a tradition of packing up picnic lunches (usually tuna fish sandwiches and hot chocolate) and heading out into the countryside to go tobogganing. In recent years, the Moirs have joined them, and Tessa nervously waits at the top of the hill for them to show up. 

With all of the holiday celebrations and family activities going on, she hasn't had a chance to see Scott since Christmas Eve, and she's half-dreading seeing him now. 

In the past week she's fluctuated back and forth between supreme giddiness and convincing herself that it was all a mistake and he's going to apologize and take it all back. 

it doesn't help that she can't stop asking herself,  _what if we break up?_

Because in the last week Tessa's come to realize that if there's one thing that could ever destroy her and leave her only a shell of herself, it's losing Scott, and she's not sure dating him is worth the risk of that happening.

She bites her thumbnail as she watches her brothers attempt to surf down the hill - so caught up in her mounting worries that she doesn't notice Scott bounding up behind her until he's already got his arms around her and is kissing her on the cheek with a wet, enthusiastic  _smack_. 

"Hey, T! Happy New Year!" 

"Hi." She sighs, relaxing backwards into his arms and trying to let go of her stress. 

"Did you have a good Christmas? Because I did. This girl I know gave me a really  _amazing_ present..." He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, and Tessa can't help but smile. 

"Is that so?" 

"Yep! I'm kind of hoping she might give it to me again, actually." 

Tessa laughs, finally turning around to face him, and she's about to grant his request when she notices the rest of his family marching up the hill, toboggans in tow, and she backs away quickly. 

"Not here." 

"No, Tess,  _here_." He points to his lips with a cheesy grin and Tessa playfully punches his arm. 

"Behave!" 

"Sorry, sorry. You're right. We need some privacy. Let's go." He picks up her toboggan from where it had been lying uselessly on the snow and gets it into position at the top of the hill before reaching for her hand. 

Tessa climbs in willingly, sitting down between his legs and enjoying the way his arms circle around her so that he can hold the rope. 

"Ready?" 

"Born ready." She replies, and they push off. 

The sled flies down the hill, snow spraying into their faces and nearly blinding them, their laughter ringing out across the frozen tundra, and they end up making it all the way into the treeline. A new record. 

She's still laughing as she climbs out of the sled, brushing the snow off of her face and holding out her hand to help Scott up. 

"That was fun! Let's do it again!" 

"Wait, Tess," Scott reaches out to stop her from walking away, keeping them partially hidden by the trees, "Can we talk now?" 

"About what?" She cocks her head, looking at him curiously (she knows what). 

"About us." He says slowly, his brow knitting just slightly. 

"What about us?" She watches as he frowns, looking worried, and then can't contain her giggles any longer. 

It takes Scott about half a second to realize that she was teasing him, before he's reaching out to tickle her and groaning, "You are so mean!" 

She laughs and dodges the attack, partially protected by her thick coat, but he still manages to grab onto her and pull her in close - trapping her arms between their chests as he looks down at her with an arched eyebrow. 

"You think you're so funny." 

"Sometimes." She replies with a shrug, fiddling with the loose ties of his hoodie. 

"Tess... you're my girlfriend, right? You're ready for that now?" He looks at her so earnestly, his eyes full of enough warmth to heat up an entire city, his voice full of hope. 

"What do you mean, 'ready'?" She asks curiously, wanting to say yes to his question, but waiting for an explanation first. 

"I've been waiting for you." He states, like it's obvious, like it's just a thing she should have known. 

"Uh...  _what_?" 

"Well, yeah, I mean... I figured we were heading for this, I hoped we were, but I wanted you to want it too. You started acting so weird that at first I thought you liked Chiddy-" 

Tessa grimaces, she's not sure how he got that impression when Chiddy has  _openly_ referred to her as his pseudo-sister before. 

"-But then I realized... well, hoped, that you liked  _me_ and that meant I could finally start making a move." 

Oh. So he  _was_ trying to date her these past few months. He should have just said that in the beginning - it would have saved them a lot of time. 

"You've liked me this whole time?" 

"Well, I did propose when I was twelve." Scott jokes, booping her nose with his and chuckling - a nice, low sound that gives her goosebumps. 

"You did... but that was just a kid thing." Tessa says, still not quite understanding how he could have liked her for so long without her noticing. She must be completely oblivious. Clearly a career as a detective is not in her future. 

"Do you remember when you had a crush on Danny? That's when I knew it  _wasn't_ a kid thing. But I was waiting for you to figure out if you liked me too or not." 

"I was trying really hard not to. Like you, that is. I didn't think you could ever see me like that and I was so afraid of ruining our friendship with a silly little crush, that I tried really hard to keep it hidden." 

"Oh, it's ruined." Scott teases with mock solemnity, leaning in to lightly kiss her cheek. "It'll never be the same." He tilts his head to kiss the corner of her mouth with a smile, and Tessa leans back. 

"Scott, I'm serious. What if this doesn't work out?" 

That is her worst fear, after all. So far this all seems too good to be true and she keeps having nightmares about it crumbling down around her. 

"It will work out." He states confidently, brushing her hair behind her ear and holding her face in the palm of his hand. His other arm staying fixed around her waist to keep her close. 

Tessa can't help pushing back on it though. He's right - she has always been the more stubborn one, "But what if it _doesn't_?" 

"Look, if for some crazy reason we ever break up, then I swear I will still be your best friend. None of this dumb stuff where couples stop talking or whatever." 

"Do you promise? Because I don't want to do this if I end up losing you." Her voice sounds small and quiet, and her eyes have started to sting a little bit, but she needs this - needs his reassurance that everything will be okay. 

"Tess," Scott leans in even closer, until his lips are grazing hers, "Nothing could ever happen that would make you lose me." 

His quiet confidence is all she needs, and Tessa presses her lips firmly against his.

Life may not have any assurances, but if Scott says it will work out, then she believes him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Prison Mix for Tess  
> By: Scott Moir
> 
> 1\. Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash  
> 2\. Jailhouse Rock - Elvis Presley  
> 3\. I Want to Break Free - Queen  
> 4\. Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson  
> 5\. Every Little Thing She Does is Magic - The Police  
> 6\. My Girl - The Temptations  
> 7\. You Make My Dreams - Hall & Oates  
> 8\. Such Great Heights - The Postal Service  
> 9\. You - Rascal Flatts   
> 10\. Somebody Like You - Keith Urban


	10. March-July, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three times Scott and Tessa are interrupted and the one time that they're not. 
> 
> Rating: T/M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to all of you reading this - all of your comments on this story have been so, so lovely. I love all of you.  
> Thank you for keeping me motivated to continue writing. <3

**my dirty little secret**

 

_ **1)** _

_**March 2005** _

_**The Moir Home, Ilderton** _

 

If you had asked Tessa three months ago what she thought would change if she started dating Scott, she would have told you  _everything_. 

She had expected it to be some monumental, earth-shattering, seismic shift. One with the potential to affect everybody around them, and that possibility had terrified her. 

The reality, however, has turned out to be quite different. They still spend most of their time with Eric and Chiddy, trade ridiculous jokes, work on homework, and surprise each other with random snowball fights. 

In short, they're basically best friends with benefits. 

Benefits like holding hands everywhere they go (Scott even made up a special hold just for them - her pinky slotted between his index and middle fingers), random hugs for no reason (during which he likes to bury his face into the crook of her neck), and kissing.

Oh, how Tessa loves the kissing. And Scott kisses her  _a lot_. 

Every morning before class, during lunch when he steals her fries, after school when they sit on the couch in his basement - Full House reruns playing in the background. 

That might be her favorite kind of kissing, actually - making out in Scott's basement. When they're alone and free to just kiss and kiss and kiss until her head is dizzy and her lips are swollen. As Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire would say, "Oh, 's wonderful, 's marvelous." 

It is exactly what they're doing now. The house is blissfully empty, and the world falls away as Scott's lips connect with hers again and again. 

He had bounded up to her locker that morning, buzzing with excitement, and eagerly informed her that his parents had to go down to London for the afternoon - which meant the they would have the house to themselves. Naturally, they had sped home after school to take advantage of the opportunity for rare and precious alone time - acting like two teenagers about to misbehave (which they were). 

Now Tessa sits with her legs across his lap, one hand tangled in his hair - the short, silky strands curling around her fingers - and the other holding onto his shoulder, her thumb rubbing circles into his collarbone, kissing her _boyfriend_ (the novelty still hasn't worn off) as enthusiastically as she can. On the other side of the room she can hear DJ Tanner and her boyfriend Steve getting hot and heavy on the TV, before DJ turns out the lights, and that seems like the best idea Tessa's heard all day. 

A few years ago, Danny and Charlie had thought that it would be hilarious to install a clapper in the basement, back when the ads were everywhere on TV and it seemed so cool, and Tessa can't help but send them a mental thank you note as she claps twice and the lights turn off. The only source of light coming from the TV and what little afternoon sun spills in between the curtains. It makes the room feel ethereal, despite its old furniture and wood paneling on the walls. 

"Thank God for my brothers." Scott chuckles, clearly thinking along the same lines, and he starts peppering kisses along her jawline before finding her mouth again. Somehow the darkness heightens every sensation - making every touch, every kiss, feel like fireworks underneath her skin. 

Scott's hands are resting on her back and thigh respectively - flexing whenever she dares to nibble at his bottom lip - and the hand on her thigh slides up her leg slowly, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, before slipping underneath the hem of her green sweater. 

"Is this okay?" Scott whispers against her mouth, both of them panting in sync as they try to refill their lungs with some much needed air. 

"Yes." Tessa whispers back, arching into his touching as he moves his hand higher, thumb skimming along the bottom of her ribcage. 

"Can I... touch you?" 

" _Yes_." She breathes, tilting her head to the side so that she can kiss him underneath his ear while his hand creeps closer to its intended target. 

Finally, after what feels like eons but is only a few seconds, Scott gulps loudly and cups her breast over the fabric of her plain cotton bra.

Tessa smashes her mouth against his - wanting _more_. Wanting him to slip his fingers inside and touch her directly, or maybe even remove the garment entirely. 

Scott kisses her back with equal fervor, moving his hand a little more firmly against her, egged on by the little noises of pleasure that she's making in the back of her throat. 

"Scottie, are you down here?" The switch on the wall is flipped, bathing the room in bright light and forcing them to pull apart and blink rapidly as their eyes adjust, and revealing Alma Moir standing at the foot of the stairs with her jaw on the floor. 

Tessa recoils and Scott freezes, his hand still up her shirt.

They are  _so_ busted. 

"I've got to go to the bathroom." Scott scrambles off of the couch, dropping Tessa unceremoniously on the floor, and runs down the hallway - his face a violent shade of crimson. The door slams shut behind him, and Tessa's knows that there's a very strong chance that he'll never reemerge and she'll be forced to find a new boyfriend (as if she ever could). 

She sits there in a heap in front of the couch, completely at a loss for what to say, hardly daring to even move and draw further attention to herself. Whatever happens next surely won't be pleasant and dread weighs heavy in her stomach like lead. 

"Well, I wondered if you two had started dating. I guess that answers my question." Alma crosses the room and sits down on the couch, patting the spot next to her and smiling down kindly at Tessa. 

She waits patiently while Tessa gets to her feet and tentatively sits before speaking, "How long has this been going on?" 

"Um... since New Year's... officially." 

Tessa completely expects (and probably deserves) a stern reprimand, and prepares herself for a lecture - closing her eyes and waiting for the inevitable words. Maybe something like, "How dare you corrupt my son!?" Or, "I'm telling your mother, young lady!" 

But instead, Alma surprises her by pulling her in for a warm hug, "I'm so happy for you both. I never want to see what I just saw _ever_ again, and I seriously encourage you to refrain from that type of activity for a few years, but I'm so glad that you and Scottie have figured it out." 

Tessa leans back as much as Alma will allow and looks up at her, mouth gaping, "You're not mad?" 

"Tessa, honey, you're part of the family." She says simply, as if that explains everything, squeezing her once more for good measure before releasing her. 

Her mind can hardly comprehend what Alma is saying, and Tessa sits quietly in a state of semi-shock that she isn't being yelled at (not that that's really Alma's style). 

"Thank you. I'm so sorry that you had to see...  _that_." She manages to say eventually, her cheeks warm, and she ducks her head. She's grateful for Alma's kind sentiment, but she still feels guilty and incredibly embarrassed that they were caught.  

"Well, me too." Alma chuckles, "But not as sorry as Scott." 

 

_**2)** _

_**April 2005** _

_**The Virtue Home, Ilderton** _

 

"Okay, my mom left a note that she went to go see the new Pride & Prejudice movie with your mom. I don't know when they'll get back, but I think we have some time." Tessa speaks quickly, hanging Scott's jacket up on the peg on the wall by the front door. She'd called him the second she'd arrived home from school and seen the note on the kitchen table. 

Movies are long, and her dad doesn't get home from his law office until at least six, which means that they can be  _alone_. 

Scott's lips are on hers the second the door is closed and he maneuvers them into the living room with more ease than she would have expected from a seventeen year old boy - guiding her backwards towards the couch. 

The back of her knees bump into the cushions, and Scott laughs as he yells, "Look out below!" and pushes her down onto it, crawling over her easily while she dissolves into a fit of giggles.

 _Movies get it wrong_ , she thinks happily,  _kissing isn't all about being intense and serious - sometimes it's just_ fun. 

Tessa shakes her head affectionately, ruffling his hair and trailing her fingers down over his ears, "You are crazy."

Scott gives her his trademark squinty grin, followed by a silly face, "Crazy about you."

He keeps himself propped up on his elbows so that she isn't completely crushed by his weight and bends down to scatter kisses all over her face - making her giggle some more - before nipping at the skin underneath her ear. 

"Sap." Tessa teases with a contented little sigh. 

Her body relaxes completely under his touch, basking in his kisses and committing to memory just how soft his lips are and how truly amazing it feels to have him on top of her, and when his hand slips underneath her shirt she arches up into him without hesitation. 

"Undo it this time." 

"What?" 

"My bra. The clasp is in the back." 

Scott looks at her like she's just given him the keys to the crown jewels - all wide-eyed and full of wonder - before shaking himself and getting to work. 

It's laughable how much he struggles with the simple hooks and Tessa quickly grows impatient. She wants him to touch her and they are running out of time.

"It's not rocket science!" 

"It's not easy, either!" Scott argues back, and Tessa huffs and props herself up just enough to reach behind her and undo the clasp with one hand. It takes about half a second, and she raises an eyebrow at him and mockingly says, "Ta-da!" 

"That's not fair. You do that every day. I've never worn a bra before." He pouts and Tessa laughs, pulling him down for another kiss. 

"Practice makes perfect. You'll get there." She murmurs and she can feel Scott smile as he kisses her. 

"I like the idea of that." 

The hand not being used to support himself glides over her ribs and underneath the now loose cup of her bra, and Tessa practically whimpers at the sensation of his fingers grazing her skin directly for the first time. 

Scott stops kissing her, too distracted by what he's doing, his forehead resting against hers as they breathe the same air. 

"Wow, Tess." He chokes out a whisper, running his thumb over her nipple and nearly growling when she whines and pushes her chest out in response. "Do you like that?"

" _Yes_ , I like it." She does. She  _really_ does. Which she hadn't expected at all. She's always been super self-conscious about her breasts - knows that she's not as gifted in the chest as other girls - but right now they're so  _sensitive_ that size is the last thing on her mind. 

It's also apparently the last thing on Scott's mind, if she's gauging by how enthusiastically he's touching her and smothering her cheeks and neck with kisses. 

"I'm worried about Tessa and Scott." Her mom's voice rings out clear as a bell as the back door opens in the other room, and Scott freezes in the middle of working a hickey into her skin - his hand still fully palming her breast. Thankfully, the angle of the couch means that, as long as they don't move, her mom won't be able to see them should she happen to look their way. 

"Oh, Kate." Alma replies with a sigh, sounding like she's had this conversation before and is growing tired of it. 

"I am! She's so young. Too young to already be going steady with a boy. I didn't do that until college. She should be out there meeting new people and trying to figure out what she likes." 

 _Going steady? Who talks like that_? Tessa rolls her eyes a little, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. 

"She  _likes_ Scott," Alma insists, and Tessa can hear the fridge opening and closing, "They adore each other and always have. You should have seen this coming from a mile away. I certainly did." 

Her mom sighs, and two chairs scrape across the floor as they sit down, "I know. I just hoped that it wouldn't be so soon. Wouldn't you prefer it if Scott was going on casual dates with a lot of girls, rather than getting into something serious a year and half before going to off to college?" 

"No, I wouldn't." Alma states emphatically, "Tessa makes him happy, makes him work harder, and he's crazy about her - and he does the same for her. I'm thrilled for them. How many people find their soulmate so young?" 

Scott, who had been lying motionless face-down on her chest, rests his chin on her chest so that he can look at her with a wide grin that stretches from ear to ear - quickly propping himself up to peck her cheek, as if to punctuate his mother's statement, sending butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 

 _Soulmates_... Tessa looks at him and wonders.

"Soulmates don't exist. And even if they did, I wouldn't want Tessa to find hers right now. She has so many dreams and I want her to be able to chase them." 

"There's no reason why she can't chase them with Scott, you know," Alma reprimands softly, "You worry too much. They're smart kids. We can trust them to make good choices." 

Her mom sighs heavily, like the weight of the world rests on her shoulders, and when she speaks it sounds like a warning, "I hope you're right." 

 

_**3)** _

_**May 2005** _

_**Tessa's Bedroom, Ilderton** _

 

"You've got to be super quiet because I don't want my mom to hear us, okay?" Tessa looks down sternly, wagging her finger for emphasis. "If you want to stay you have to be good. I want to keep you, but you have to prove that you can behave or my mom will say no." 

The floppy-eared German Shepherd puppy looks up at her, cocking its head as if it's actually listening to everything that she's saying.  

"Who are you talking to?" Scott climbs in through the open window, birds twittering angrily on the ledge as he disturbs the robin's nest nearby, and scuffs his shoes on the windowsill - nearly falling. He's really getting too big for that these days, and Tessa tries not to laugh at his ungraceful entrance. 

She scoops up the puppy in her arms and turns around to show him, "Meet Tallulah." 

"You got a dog?" He saunters over and pats the puppy on the head, and she immediately tries to lick his hand, making Tessa giggle. 

"She followed me home today." 

Scott looks up at her, skepticism written all over his face, "And your mom let you keep her?" 

"Well..." Tessa hesitates, looking away, "She doesn't exactly know yet..." 

"I don't think she's going to be very happy. Dogs can be messy." He looks at her, and Tessa can read on his face what he isn't saying. Her mom notoriously doesn't like mess. 

"Who cares? I'm keeping her." Tessa says stubbornly, standing a little straighter and full of defiance, holding Tallulah a little tighter to her chest. 

Her mom says no to everything - dying her hair, an extra piercing in her ear, being alone with Scott - and Tessa  _mostly_ listens. But not this time. She'll just have to find a way to convince her that a dog could be good for home security or something. 

Tallulah continues licking happily at Scott's hand as he rubs her belly, and Tessa relaxes - the sight of Scott being so adorable somehow working to calm her back down. "She likes you." 

"Of course she does. She's your dog, and you  _love_ me. Naturally that got passed along the minute you adopted her." Scott's voice is cocky, but he smiles shyly at her, and Tessa can feel her cheeks turning pink even as she tries to tease him.

"Who says I love you?" 

"You did. After you started falling asleep during the end credits of Batman Begins." He shifts from foot to foot looking nervous, but trying to maintain eye contact, "You do, don't you?" 

It's a little embarrassing, realizing that she'd let something so significant slip out after watching Batman of all things, and she doesn't even remember saying it, but... it's not exactly untrue. 

She puts Tallulah back down on the floor and tells him quietly, "Yeah, I do." 

He's on her in an instant, kissing her hard and fast and making her head spin. 

"I love you, too." 

They stand there grinning at each other like idiots for a few minutes, holding onto each other's forearms, before Scott slides his arms around to embrace her and starts kissing her again, moving them slowly towards her bed. 

"Wait, hang on." Tessa jogs over to her bedroom door and turns the little twist lock on the doorknob before rejoining him - climbing onto her bed and tugging at his hand so that he'll follow. He doesn't resist for even a second.  

Tallulah whimpers at being left alone where she can't see them, but they both ignore her. Too concerned with their newly revealed feelings (although hardly newly felt) to pay much attention to a puppy. 

They make out for a while, and Tessa enjoys the fact that each time they do this they both grow a little bit bolder. It's a relief, really, because Scott's been stoking this fire inside her since March and it never completely goes away. She needs them to keep progressing before she explodes. 

They've managed to get both their shirts off and he's just starting to unbutton her pants when the dog's whining becomes too loud and insistent to ignore. 

"Kate's going to hear her." Scott mutters, teeth scraping along her shoulder before biting down at the top of her breast. 

"I know, I know. Hang on," Tessa rolls out from under him to look over the side of the bed, and laughs at the sad, neglected expression on the dog's face. 

Taking pity on her, Tessa picks her up and places her in the middle of the bed with a plop, and the sweet little thing immediately curls into a ball and snuggles in between them. 

"Tess," Scott whines, "Now she's in the way."  

"Look how cute she is, though. Come on." Tessa pokes him in the shoulder, and Scott lets out one long, exaggerated sigh. 

"Yeah, yeah, fine. She's adorable. An adorable cockblock." 

" _Scott!"_ Tessa almost shouts, then claps her hand over her mouth - briefly looking towards the door in fear. When it doesn't seem like Kate heard, she drops her hand and glares at him, "Don't call her that."  

He's trying hard not to laugh, but a snort still manages to escape as he shrugs and pats the dog on the head, "If the tiny puppy shoe fits." 

 

_**+1)** _

_**July 1, 2005** _

_**Virtue Cabin, Lake Huron** _

 

A few years ago, Jim Virtue had bought a cabin up on Lake Huron to serve as a family retreat during the summers, and ever since then it had become tradition to invite the Moirs to join them for the week surrounding the Canada Day holiday.

They all get along well. They laugh, they eat, they swim, they play games. This has, historically, been a good thing - except for the fact that now, instead of being something that Tessa gets to revel in, Scott’s penchant for being incredibly physically affectionate is a liability in her attempts to not be completely mortified in front of her family.

They all know by now that she and Scott are dating, but that doesn't mean Tessa wants to spend the entire week being made fun of every time they kiss. Or have their parents (mostly her mom) watching them like a hawk.

Which is why she had issued an ultimatum before they left Ilderton that he was only allowed to hold her hand and kiss her cheek during the entire trip. She isn't about to get caught making out by one of their siblings. Or worse, one of their parents (again). 

Unfortunately, Scott had taken that as a challenge to drive her absolutely crazy by whispering in her ear whenever possible. Sentences like, "I really want to kiss you right now," and "You look beautiful today," and "I wish I could touch you." 

She's going to lose her goddamn mind. 

On the third day there, with Tessa already so keyed up she's almost ready to throw her rules out the window and drag Scott behind some trees or something so that they can make out for a while and blow off some steam, Scott takes her hand and leads her up off her beach chair and out into the water. 

"Come with me." 

"What are you doing?" She asks, swimming after him as he goes deeper and deeper. All the way out until the sand drops off and the water level reaches their necks when they stand up.   

"I can't go four more days, T. Your rules are killing me." He complains with a quiet groan, "We've been together over six months and in that time we haven't gone more than a day without kissing at least once. I feel like I'm going through withdrawals. Tessa withdrawals. It sucks." 

"I know, I know," Tessa whines, equally as irritated - even though she is the one responsible for putting them in this situation, "But you just  _know_ that if we kiss in front of them all of our siblings will do something dumb like say  _awww_ every single time we do it." 

"I know. I get why we're doing this - or  _not_ doing this, I guess. But it doesn't change the fact that when I look at you I want to kiss you, and when you walked out in that bright pink bikini today I nearly passed out." 

Tessa giggles. She had secretly hoped for that reaction. Had picked this particular bikini, with its halter top and well-fitted bottoms, specifically with him in mind. Tessa has a weakness for good swimwear, and if she can make it useful at the same time - all the better. 

"I want to touch you." He whispers, his voice dropping low and making Tessa tingle all over, and he steps a little closer before glancing back towards the beach where literally their entire family is hanging out - either sunbathing or playing beach soccer, or in the case of Alma, reading a dollar store romance novel and completely caught up in whatever sordid events are taking place inside.

Tessa had read part of one of Alma's books once, out of curiosity, and had been forever scarred by the phrase  _pulsating member_.  

"Four days." Tessa reminds him sadly, but then his hands land on either side of her waist - immediately gliding up to her ribcage - and he strokes underneath her bikini top with his thumbs. 

"What are you doing?" She asks, breathless and excited and wondering if she should stop him. 

"Don't react, okay? Keep looking normal. Like we're just having a conversation." Scott says seriously, waiting for her to nod in agreement before moving his hands higher and running his thumbs back and forth over her nipples - the wet swimsuit providing hardly any barrier between them. Tessa's eyes close as she whimpers and tries really hard to stay still. 

They haven't done this very much, but Scott's quickly become good at eliciting a reaction out of her and figuring out just how to touch her breasts to make her see stars. If he were a baseball player, he'd be a second baseman for sure. 

Then again, they haven't gone any further yet, so for all she knows he might be just as successful at rounding third.  

His actions stoke the simmering fire inside her body, building it higher and higher until she feels like if she doesn't find some sort of relief she's going to spontaneously combust. The cover of the dark water makes her bold as she reaches up and takes Scott's hand, guiding it down her body, past her bellybutton, and leaving it at the top of her bikini bottoms. 

Scott looks confused at first, but then realization dawns on his face as he feels along the waistband of her bikini - understanding what she's done, and what she wants him to do.  

“Are you – do you want me to?” He asks, voice thick and the pupils of his eyes blown wide. She didn't know eyes did that and for some reason it makes her feel even more aroused.

“Yes.” Tessa whimpers, waiting for him to move his hand that final distance and touch her between her legs for the first time. She wants this  _so_ badly, but she also wants it to be his choice. If he isn't ready to take this step, that's totally fine, but she may have to run inside and take care of it herself. She’s so wound up she won't be able to think straight for the rest of the day if she doesn't do something about it.

Thankfully, Scott doesn't need any further encouragement - his hand slipping underneath the fabric without preamble - and the instant his fingers make contact Tessa has to clamp down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out. 

She's done this to herself before, she's sixteen - of course she has, but the fact that it's  _Scott_ _'s_ hand makes it feel entirely different and new. 

It's wonderful. 

When she comes, clutching Scott's wrist under the water and digging crescent moons into his skin with her fingernails, she keeps her face fixed on his - maintaining eye contact until the last possible moment when the sensations become too overwhelming and she's forced to let her head fall backwards and her eyes close - white lights bursting on the back of her eyelids. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Scott murmurs, just as breathless as she is, and he slips his hand out from between her legs. 

“Can you? Or would it be too obvious?” Tessa asks eagerly, panting and desperate to have his lips on hers. Well, what she really wants is to wrap her entire body around his and hold him as closely as possible, but that would  _definitely_ draw the attention of everyone on the beach. 

“Well, Kevin just looked at me like he’s trying to decide if we’re misbehaving so…” Scott chuckles, tossing his head towards the shore, and Tessa cringes. 

“Four more days, I guess?”

Scott nods seriously, "And not a minute more.” 

 


	11. September 3, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy (day after your) 18th Birthday, Scott! Tessa has a present for you.  
> aka: the first time
> 
> Rating: Hard M

** love is the answer (at least for most of the questions in my heart) **

_** Saturday September 3, 2005 ** _

_** Oxbow Glen Golf Course ** _

Happiness is not a foreign concept to Scott. Out of the 6,570 days he’s spent on Earth, he’d feel pretty confident in saying at least 6,500 of them were happy ones (although he can’t remember it, his mom always says that he was her happiest baby – even if a little too rambunctious at times).

But if the last eighteen years have been happy, then the last nine months have been fucking jubilant.

He’s in love with his best friend, and she loves him back. Life doesn't get any better than that.

Eric and Chiddy once told him, years ago, that he has a special “Tessa smile.” He hadn’t believed them at first, had told them that they were being silly and then kicked their asses at Bop-It, but he can see it now every time he looks in the mirror. It’s hardly left his face since he kissed her under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve.

Some of the kids at school had taken bets on how long they thought he and Tessa would last – had whispered and spread rumors that they were going to grow sick of each other within a month – but Scott can’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t want Tessa by his side. It's like trying to imagine the Earth without its Sun.

She’s like an extension of himself. When he reaches out, he knows her hand will always be there without question.

They haven’t had sex yet, but that doesn’t really matter because they’ve done other things, and the fact that she wants him to touch her, and wants to touch him in return, makes him giddy like a twelve year old school boy.

But even if they didn’t do any of the physical stuff, he still wouldn’t want anyone else but her.

He’d asked his parents after Canada Day and the  _Lake Incident_ if his attachment to Tessa could be a bad thing (he’d overheard Kate Virtue saying something along those lines), and his dad had said, “Scott, your girl should be your best friend, but not your only friend. Do you feel like that’s true?”

Scott had thought about Eric and Chiddy and his brothers and the soccer team, and nodded.

“Then you and Tessa will be just fine.”

Right now, though, happiness is a concept that means celebrating his birthday at one of the nearby golf courses, the sun having barely risen over the trees (clearing away the lingering mist from the cooling early fall weather), and watching Tessa carefully place the small white ball on the tee as she prepares to take her shot – her short white skirt riding up a little as she does.

Scott might be totally content without having sex, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy how gorgeous his girlfriend is, how long and lean her legs are, and the way she arches a single perfect eyebrow at him when she catches him looking.

Tessa exaggeratedly wiggles her bum as she adjusts her ball, and Scott grins. That’s a challenge that he’ll happily accept.

“Once you step up to the ball, T, you’ve gotta make sure that you’re in the right position.” Scott walks up and presses himself in behind her, placing a hand on either side of her waist and pulling her in close, the corners of his mouth twitching when she inhales sharply, “Don’t forget you want to make a triangle with your arms, shoulders, and hands.”

“Is that right? I didn’t realize I was golfing with Tiger Woods today.”

“Well, there’s one kind of tiger here, that’s for sure.” He nips at her shoulder and Tessa bursts out laughing.

“You’re ridiculous.”

"Don’t criticize your teacher.” Scott chastises, nipping a little harder at her neck and smirking when she shivers. He reaches around and covers her hands with his where they clutch at the golf club. “Let’s practice your swing.”

Tessa leans her head back on his shoulder so that she can see his face and looks at him with a deadpan expression. “I have played golf before. You’re just trying to distract me so that I don’t beat you.”

Scott grins and kisses the corner of her mouth, “Are you saying that you’re distracted?”

“No.” Tessa states firmly, but her eyes give her away. She’s definitely not unaffected by his actions.

Good.

This isn’t about trying to win the game, it’s about trying to convince her to sneak off into the trees at the end of the green with him and make out for a while. And the way he sees it, she started it when she wore that zip-up white tank top and tiny matching golf skirt. It had to have been purposely picked just to torture him.

“Ready?” Scott whispers in her ear, tightening his hands around hers and preparing to swing, and Tessa nods.

They swing the club together in one fluid motion, and she's set to hit the golf ball dead on until at the last possible moment when Scott leans in and kisses right behind her ear where he knows she particularly likes it.

Tessa loses her concentration and the club chips the grass, sending a hunk of dirt flying through the air.

“Scott!” She spins around out of his reach with a glare, “You did that on purpose!”

“Yup!” Scott grins back, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging without remorse.

“That doesn’t count as a stroke! I get to go again without penalty. And  _without_ interference.”

Tessa puts two hands on his chest and shoves him away from the tee a good three yards, and Scott backs away willingly – if a little disappointed that she’s so caught up in the game that she's immune to his attempts at seduction.

"Come on T, you can’t be that upset.”

“Listen, buddy. You wanted to go golfing for your birthday yesterday, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

“I’d rather… nevermind.” He blushes. For half a second he’d heard Eric's voice in his head and nearly said,  _I’d rather focus on_ your _hole in one._ A bad joke, and definitely something the other boy would have said without hesitation.

Tessa looks at him funny, but Scott’s not about to explain, so he remains silent and gestures for her to take her turn.

“You’re so weird sometimes.” She rolls her eyes and reaches out to tickle his ribs before walking up to the tee and taking her shot – properly this time. It’s a good hit, and Scott can’t help but applaud her.

“How about this,” Tessa tucks a strand of hair that has come loose from her braid behind her ear and ducks her head, “Winner gets to pick what we do after we're done golfing.”

“I thought we were meeting up with Eric and Chiddy to see The 40-Year Old Virgin?”

“Yeah, well if you win then we can go do that.” Tessa looks up at him and Scott can’t read her face at all. Does she not want to go do that, but is worried about telling him? He won’t be mad.

"What if you win?”

Tessa inexplicably blushes, and suddenly Scott’s a lot more curious about what will happen if she does.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” She replies cryptically, walking away towards the golf cart so that they can head towards where their balls are waiting way down the green, and Scott jogs after her.

“Do I get a hint?”

“Nope. Let’s just play the game and see what happens.” Her smile is full of secrets and Scott wants to know every last one.

He doesn’t lose on  _purpose_ , per se, because that would be cheating and he and Tessa don’t do that. Also, Scott’s pretty competitive once he gets going and purposely losing would go against everything that he is.

But if he gets distracted by Tessa – how she looks, how she laughs, how she reaches out to caress his arm every so often or lean up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek after she makes a particularly tricky shot – well, who can blame him?

In the end, she wins 97 to 111 (not his best game, by far), and yet Scott doesn't mind a bit.

“So?” Scott asks eagerly as they replace their golf cart and return their rented clubs, “You won, kiddo. What’s on the agenda for the afternoon?”

“Let’s have lunch.” She replies, taking his hand and leading him towards the clubhouse.

Scott deflates a little bit at the casualness in her tone. He’d kind of hoped that she’d been planning more than lemonade and a Cobb salad.

Tessa smiles and reaches up to press the corners of his mouth with her thumbs – pushing them back up and forcing away his frown. “Then after lunch I thought maybe we could go back to your place and watch a movie there instead. Just us.”

The way she lingers on the  _just us_ sends his blood rushing  _places_ (places that are always interested in being alone with her) and he immediately perks up, “Well… technically my parents said that you weren’t supposed to come over this weekend since they’re out of town, but… if it’s  _just a movie_.”

Tessa beams at him, “Exactly. Really they should be proud of us for being fiscally responsible and not spending money on going out.”  

He wraps his arms around her waist, bumping her nose with his and smiling, “That’s right. We’re just being smart.” He kisses her, running his tongue along her bottom lip before tangling it with hers – earning a pointed cough from the maître d'.

“Table for two?” The older man cuts in, and Scott smiles unapologetically at him.

“Yes, sir!”

        -------

“So, what did you have in mind now?” Scott asks as he leads Tessa through the front door of his house, tossing the keys onto the counter by the door and kicking off his shoes. His mom will be after him about that later – complaining that he never puts them away properly – but he’s home alone all weekend so he’s not too worried about it at the moment.

Tessa takes her shoes off slowly, untying the laces and placing them neatly on the shoe rack by the door.  _That’s probably why she’s Mom’s favorite_ , Scott thinks with an affectionate shake of his head.

“Why don’t you pick a movie while I go get changed?” Tessa holds up the maroon duffle-bag she’d brought with her and heads downstairs towards his bathroom.

Scott trails after her down the stairs and into the den in the basement, feeling a little disappointed. If he’s being honest, he hadn’t really thought they’d be watching a movie.

He watches her walk down the hallway with a feeling akin to regret. He’d rather liked the little golf outfit and had hoped that he could convince her to make out for a while and maybe let him unzip the front of the shirt a little bit. Like unwrapping the best gift ever.

With a sigh, Scott walks over to the movie shelf, scanning the rows of VHS tapes and DVDs (they’ve only barely started converting their collection), and he grabs two of his favorites, the boxes well-worn and the tapes probably not far from being unreadable due to overuse.

“The Princess Bride or A Knight’s Tale, Tess? I’m in the mood for some sword fights and jokes.”

“I have a third option.” Tessa’s voice comes from somewhere to his side, quiet and nervous. Does she think he won’t like her suggestion?

“What is it? If it’s The Neverending Story again I have to veto – you know I hate it when the horse dies.” He turns to look at her, and the movies he’s holding fall to the floor with a clatter.

Tessa’s standing at the mouth of the hallway in a silky pink robe that barely comes down to her thighs – fidgeting like she doesn’t know what to do with her arms. Almost posing, and then giving up and letting them hang by her side.

She’s taken her nut brown hair out of its braid and left it in loose waves over her shoulders, and her make-up looks a little touched up as well.

For once in his life, Scott is absolutely speechless.

“Well,” Tessa says after a minute or two, her cheeks turning progressively more red, “Say something.”

“Is… is that new?” It’s a ridiculous question. It’s not like Scott’s ever seen her robe collection before, but it’s about the only thing that his brain can come up with.

Tessa chuckles, and he can’t help but notice how the color of her pink cheeks and pale skin is complimented perfectly by the robe she’s wearing. She looks like some sort of strawberries and cream perfection.

“Um… yeah. I went to Victoria’s Secret down in London last weekend and bought a few things that I thought you might like.”

A  _few_ things? Things  _he_ might like!?

Tessa had thought about this. She’d planned this. And she’d planned it for him – to make him happy.

He knows that he’s standing there gaping at her like the world’s most idiotic fish, but he can’t help it. She looks like every wet dream he didn’t ever dare let himself have.

“Do you?”

_ Does he what?  _ He should probably pay attention to what she’s saying, but he just can’t right now. He's too busy committing every detail of this moment to memory.

“Scott!”

Her sharp voice shakes him out of his stupor, and he drags his eyes away from where they’d been fixed on her creamy white thighs and finds her emerald eyes again – narrowed at him in obvious annoyance, with a hint of self-consciousness.

“What was the question?”

“Do you like it?” She asks, her hands moving to rest on her hips.

She must not realize that the action pulls the robe open wider because she doesn’t try to fix it, but Scott certainly notices – his eyes dropping instantly to the deep V of her chest.

When he takes too long to answer she folds her arms over herself and turns her face away – moving as if to leave – and that’s what finally grabs his attention and spurs him into action.

“Tessa, you are gorgeous.” The words come out quiet and throaty – a voice he’s never heard himself use before (he’s just grateful that it didn’t crack).

She lifts her head up to look at him, eyes cautiously hopeful, “Really?”

“ _Yes_.” He finally finds the brainpower to walk over to her and take her hands in his – linking their fingers together and smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt. “I can’t believe that you went to a lingerie store for me.”

“Well… I thought for your birthday we could-“ Her voice trails off suggestively and Scott gulps, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Yeah?” His voice does crack then, and he cringes a little bit.

“I mean, if you want to.” Tessa shrugs, attempting to seem nonchalant, but Scott can see right through the act. She needs reassurance.

“I want to.” He replies eagerly, probably too eagerly, but Tessa only smiles in response. A true, genuinely happy smile. Her nervousness forgotten.

“Good. Me too.”

“Should we…” Scott’s not exactly sure how to get the ball rolling. Up until now all of their make out sessions have been more spontaneous and without the added pressure of knowing they were going to do…  _this_.

He has absolutely no idea where to begin.

“Your room?” Tessa asks, stepping backwards down the hallway and pulling Scott along after her.

“Yeah. My room. That’s a good idea.” He stutters, following her into his room and kicking the door shut behind him. Although he supposes it doesn't really matter, since the place is empty, but it would feel wrong leaving it open.

He really wishes that he’d taken his mom up on her offer to update his bedding set to something a little more appropriate for an eighteen year old. The Maple Leafs bedding he got on his ninth birthday just doesn’t seem quite right for their first time, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. The fact that he washed them yesterday is a small miracle. 

Someday though, he’ll do this properly on nice white sheets with a fluffy duvet that’s like, grey or something – something mature and soft that Tessa would like.

“Scott? Can you please say something? It makes me nervous when you’re quiet.”

He blushes and looks down at his feet, “What do you want me to say? This is all brand new.”

To his surprise, Tessa scoffs and pinches his ribs, making him jump, “No it’s not. We’ve kissed  _a lot_ , and given each other orgasms. This is just the last step.”

“Ugh.” Scott makes a face, scrunching up his nose at her, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Well what should I say then?” Tessa argues with a little laugh, putting her hands on her hips again and widening the V of her robe in that way Scott has quickly decided he really likes. He’s never noticed how far down her freckles go before, but the way they’re framed by the silk makes it glaringly obvious.

“Something not so… biological. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry. We’ve  _gotten each other off_.” Tessa says with an exaggerated eye roll, and Scott groans again.

“I don’t think that’s better.”

“Oh, just kiss me!”

He doesn’t have to be told twice – surging forward and bringing his mouth down hard against hers.

She was right. They’ve done this a lot. Enough that as long as he focuses on kissing her breathless, he forgets to be nervous about anything else. She tastes like cherry chapstick and mint toothpaste and he fleetingly wonders if she brushed her teeth while getting changed. He hopes she doesn’t mind that his own mouth probably still tastes like the chocolate cake that she’d insisted he eat at lunch.

Tessa’s hands come up to frame his face, deepening the kiss, and Scott can’t help the moan that escapes when she scratches along the nape of his neck.

He buries his left hand in her hair, relishing the way the silky strands flow through his fingers, and grabs her ass with his other hand – dragging the silk up a little bit as he does.

“You can take it off.” Tessa says in a raspy voice, her chest heaving against his, and Scott steps backwards and nods.

“Okay.” He murmurs, carefully untying the knot around her waist and pushing the silky fabric off of her shoulders, letting it pool around her feet.

“Wow.”

He lets his eyes roam across her body – taking in the frankly amazing sight of her in a matching pink bra and lacy boy-shorts.

Tessa’s blush returns, and this time he can watch it spreading down her neck and over her breasts, and he gulps audibly.

“This isn’t fair,” She whines, moving to cover herself, “You’re way more dressed than I am.”

Scott laughs. That’s something he’s only too happy to rectify. He grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion that leaves his hair a fluffy mess.

"Those too.” Tessa points at his jeans, and Scott inhales a nervous breath before fumbling with the button and zipper and letting them fall to the floor across from her robe, leaving him clad only in his blue and black checkerboard boxers. 

“Better?” He asks, throat dry and palms sweaty. This is farther than they’ve ever gone before and he really doesn't want to disappoint her.

Sure, they’ve touched each other – fumbled around in the dark, under blankets, in the lake at her parent’s cabin. But they’ve never really  _seen_ each other.

And while objectively Scott knows that he’s seen Tessa in a bikini hundreds of times and she’s seen him shirtless and in shorts equally as often, context is everything.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, but Tessa doesn’t seem so nervous now that they’re both in their underwear so he follows her lead. She reaches out slowly, but confidently, and places her hands on his chest – running them across his skin. Exploring.

Her touch is like an electric wire straight to his groin, which normally would be kind of embarrassing and something that he’d try to control so that he doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but right now he supposes that reaction is kind of the point. And really, he’s a teenage boy – it’s not like he ever had that much control to begin with.

All he has to do these days is think about Tessa and he’s half-hard. With her hands actually on him like this and the knowledge of what they’re going to be doing, he’s fully hard in seconds.

Tessa scratches her nails lightly down his chest and his eyelids flutter closed.

“Scott?” She asks softly, circling her finger around his bellybutton.

He barely manages to speak, all the blood in his brain having dropped to a decidedly more southerly location, “Uh huh?”

"Do you want to take this over to the bed?”

_ Oh yeah! He has a bed! Fantastic!  _ “Yes. Is that okay?”

She giggles and swats his chest, “Of course it’s okay! Come on.”

Tessa grabs his hand and leads him towards the bed and Scott mutters, “Thank god,” making her laugh even more.

She lays down on the mattress, undeterred by the Leafs pattern, and Scott crawls after her – pausing to admire the absolutely mindblowing image of the girl he loves in lingerie she picked out just for him spread out and waiting for him to join her. He peppers kisses up her sternum and the side of her neck as he settles himself over her, propping himself up on his elbows so that he doesn’t completely crush her with his weight.

He takes back everything he said about happiness. Happiness is this – her and now and forever. Him and Tessa in bed together with the echoes of their laughter still fading and smiles on their lips.

“Tess, do you have any idea how much I love you?”

Her smile shifts from mischievous to something infinitely tender and soft, and she reaches up to gently caress his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Scott leans down to find her unresisting lips with his own, and as much as he intends to keep it chaste – that proves to be impossible in their current situation.

The rest of their clothes are quickly removed and then he’s finally seeing her whole body for the first time. He barely has time to appreciate it properly (he’d like to spend a few hours with her breasts, then move down lower for a while) before Tessa’s handing him a condom.

“You’ve thought of everything.” Scott says with a laugh, awkwardly unwrapping it.

“Of course. I love you, but I’m not stupid.” She gives him a teasing tongue-touched smile, before taking it out of his hands, “Here, let me.”

Tessa puts the condom on with ease (he’ll have to ask her about that later – has she been practicing?) and guides him to her entrance, and then he’s there.

Scott’s whole world narrows down to heat and her tight grip and the sounds she makes and how absolutely fucking  _amazing_ sex feels – so much better than anything else he’s ever experienced.

Dare he say it, but he would probably give up the Maple Leafs if it meant getting to do this with Tessa forever.

He hopes that traitorous thought doesn’t get out into the universe.

“Are you close, T?” The words struggle out of him as he tries to maintain control, and he desperately hopes that she’ll say yes because he’s not sure that he can hold on much longer.

“ _Yes_.” She replies with a breathless whimper, “Can you touch me? Like you did at the lake?”

Yes he fucking can.

Scott props himself up on one arm so that he can reach between them, and all it takes is a few strokes before he feels Tessa clench around him – her head tilted back and her mouth dropping open in a beautiful O shape – and Scott follows immediately after her, pressing his mouth to hers as he does.

He drops to her side so that he doesn't accidentally suffocate her, disposes of the condom, and tries to catch his breath - basking in the afterglow. Tessa lays there panting as well – her bare breasts heaving in a way that’s incredibly distracting, despite his recent orgasm.

“Are you… are you good, T? Was that alright?” He asks nervously, desperate for reassurance. Which he knows is such a cliché thing for boys to do, but it’s not because he needs her to stroke his ego – he genuinely wants to make sure that she felt as good as he did.

Tessa lets out a peal of uncontrollable giggles and rolls into his side, pressing her body as closely to his as she can and looking up at him with those gorgeous green eyes. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but they look incredibly bright in that moment.

“How long before we can do it again?”

Scott bursts out laughing, relieved and overjoyed, and doesn’t stop laughing until Tessa finds a better use for his mouth.

 


	12. May 27, 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's Senior Prom
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> P.S. I was really into walking down 2006 memory lane while writing this, so there's a lot of songs included in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tessa's prom dress is based on her dress from Valse Triste.
> 
> This is kind of a silly chapter, but I wanted to store up the happiness before the angst starts...

**all that I am, all that I ever was (is here in your perfect eyes)**

 

_**May 27, 2006** _

_**Medway High School** _

 

Tessa leans in close to the mirror in the entryway, her lips slightly parted as she checks her eyes for any smudged mascara or stray eyelashes. She'd taken extra care with her make-up tonight to make sure that everything looked perfect, and her mom had helped style her newly dyed red hair in an intricate up-do that makes Tessa feel incredibly elegant.  

She'd dyed her hair on a whim last week on her seventeenth birthday, shocking everybody (especially her parents) with such a brazen act of teenage rebellion. It had been a little jarring at first, but as she gazes at it reflected in the glass, she falls in love with it all over again. She loves the way it glows like a flame in the sunlight, and loves the open manifestation of her first concrete steps into taking control over her own life. 

With a solid nod of approval, Tessa backs away from the mirror and peeks out of the window for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes. Scott's picking her up soon, and while she isn't nervous to see  _him_ , she is anxious to see his reaction to how she looks in her dress. 

They don't often dress up for each other (aka maybe once or twice since she's known him) and Tessa can't wait to show him the lavender dress that she'd picked out. Her mom had taken her shopping in London and it had been love at first sight - its beautiful, intricately beaded details, and the way it hugs her body just right and flows around her knees (perfect for dancing), make it the perfect dress. 

"You look beautiful, Tessa, stop fidgeting." Her mom chastises, snapping another photo without warning. 

"Mom," Tessa whines, "Stop that."

"Oh, let me have fun. I want to document how lovely my daughter is." 

She can't help but smile at that and shake her head affectionately, "Fine, but promise you'll delete all of the bad ones." 

"There are no bad ones." Her mom assures her, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

A loud, confident knock lands on the front door and Tessa jumps up to answer it. 

"Hold on, honey. A lady doesn't get the door for her date. Let me." 

Her mom opens the door with a rare smile, greeting Scott and letting him into the house, and Tessa feels all the air leave her body. 

He's in a nice black suit, white button down shirt, and a tie that almost exactly matches the color of her dress (she'd told him what to get so that they would be coordinated). His hair is actually styled for once, instead of sticking up in a million different directions, and Tessa feels the appreciative smile spread across her face. He looks like her very own Prince Charming come to life.

Scott has gone completely silent, his eyes raking over her body, and he doesn't speak until he's swallowed a few times and cleared his throat. 

"Wow, kiddo. You look amazing." 

"Thank you. You look very handsome yourself." 

Scott blushes a little bit and holds out the plastic box in his left hand, "Here, I got you one of these." 

She takes it curiously, and peers through the top. Inside the box is a beautiful corsage made of ivory roses and baby's breath, and Tessa grins at him. "It's beautiful. Do I have to put it on myself?" 

"No. I can do that." Scott pulls it out and slips it over her left wrist with ease, then surprises her by taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it. 

"I got you one too." 

"A corsage?" Scott teases with a lopsided grin, "That might look funny with my suit." 

"No, I mean a boutonniere." Tessa corrects herself with a laugh, "But fair warning, I might stab you with the needle." 

Scott chuckles, tilting his torso towards her to make it easier for her to pin it on, "Just try not to draw blood - that wouldn't really go with my outfit."

It's not much more than a sprig of lavender and some greenery (he'd definitely balk at anything too extravagant), but Tessa still struggles getting the pin to hold it in right. 

"Here, Tessa, let me help you." Her mom puts down the camera that she'd been using to fire away a million action shots of them and reaches out for Scott's lapels. "In, out, in - like this." 

She makes it look easy, getting it right on her first try, before patting Scott on the shoulder and picking up her camera again. 

"Now, smile you two. I promised Alma lots of pictures." 

 

It takes a full five minutes before Kate finally feels satisfied and lets them leave, and Tessa practically drags Scott out of the house to escape before her mom can change her mind - coming to a halt as soon as she sees the monstrosity waiting for her.  

"You rented a  _limo_?" Tessa's mouth hangs open as she gawks at the long, sleek, black car parked in front of her house. 

Renting a limo for prom is the kind of thing you see on TV and in movies, but she never expected it in real life in tiny Ilderton. 

"Well, technically Eric, Chiddy, and I all rented it together. And only for the drive to the school, not after. We could only afford it for like fifteen minutes."

"Still," Tessa says, taking his hand and tugging him towards the car, "This is  _amazing_." 

"Yeah? You really like it?" Scott asks, moving to run his hand through his hair before remembering that it's all done up and dropping his hand uselessly to his side.

"Yes. It's just like in a movie." 

"A good kind of movie?" He opens the door for her, gesturing for her to slide in, and Tessa can't resist kissing his cheek before she does.

"The best." 

 

They pick up Eric and Chiddy and their dates - two Grade 12 girls that Tessa doesn't really know - and head to the school, taking turns standing out of the sunroof as they drive towards the familiar brown building (despite the driver's warnings that it isn't safe).

The minute that they walk inside they're ushered into line for the official photo booth, and while most people do the perfunctory 'guy with arms around girl' pose, Scott doesn't hesitate to dip her backwards and kiss her, making her laugh and their group of friends groan like animals in pain. 

The gym is already packed with students, decorated to the hilt with streamers and ribbons and fairy lights, and a DJ bobs his head as he selects the next song from his booth in the middle of the room. Soon the familiar twang starts playing amid cheers, and Tessa cringes as the familiar lyrics begin. 

_Out in the country_  
_Past the city limits sign_  
_Well there's a honky tonk_  
_Near the county line_  

Scott's face lights up like a Christmas tree, and he starts leading her towards the dance floor - his intentions clear. 

"No way, Scott." Tessa protests, planting her feet and forcing him to stop at the edge of the dancers. 

"Come on, T, please!" 

"No," She shakes her head adamantly, ignoring his frown, "I am not doing the Boot Scootin' Boogie." 

He grabs her other hand and tugs harder, the ground shaking under the synchronized kicks going on behind him, "But it's fun!" 

"It's ridiculous and I do not line dance." Tessa states, firm in her decision. 

Firm, that is, until Scott gives her the biggest, saddest, puppy dog eyes ever and juts out his bottom lip - letting it tremble for added effect. She can feel her resolve wavering almost at once. 

"It will make me really happy if you do." He places her hand over his heart, "Please, T. For me." 

Damn him and his intimate knowledge of all her weaknesses. That face and the promise that she'll be making him happy, and he knows she'll do whatever he wants. 

Tessa lets out one long, exasperated sigh, and nods imperceptibly, "Okay, fine. Just this once." 

"Woohoo!" Scott whoops, drawing the attention of a few nearby people and laughs from Eric and Chiddy who are already happily thumping along in unison with the song - unencumbered by the same inhibitions that she has. 

He wastes no time taking her over to slip into one of the established lines, and falls into the steps easily - his thumbs in his pockets and his feet kicking in sync with the beat like he was born to dance. 

Tessa bites her lips and follows along, chuckling to herself at how much of a wannabe cowboy Scott is. Tessa can't relate to that at all, but she grew up in the same country town that he did, so she allows her feet to move along to the song - even if her face remains impassive, refusing to give off the impression that she's enjoying the annoying song. 

Scott makes sure to get her attention and grins before belting the lyrics:

_The bartender asks me says son what'll it be_  
_I want a shot at that redhead yonder lookin' at me_

Tessa bursts out laughing, losing the steps and falling out of rhythm, and Scott laughs too - clearly having achieved his intended goal of getting her to smile. 

He grabs her hand and spins her into another dip like the one in their photo, kissing her collarbone when he pulls her back upright. 

"You have to admit that was fun. A bunch of kids in their best clothes line dancing is kind of hilarious." 

He’s absolutely right. Boys in various kinds of tuxedos and suits and girls in their fancy dresses line dancing to a Brooks & Dunn song is probably one of the most ridiculous things she’s ever seen. 

"Fine, you win. That was fun." 

"I won't say I told you so." Scott grins from ear to ear, victory written all over his face, and she's about to retort when the DJ does a complete 180 and the next song to come on is  _Hips Don't Lie._ Tessa claps her hands together, letting out a cheer of her own, and takes Shakira's advice - making her body move  _like that_  and driving Scott as crazy as she can. 

Various pop songs pass by in a blur as they dance - highlighted at one point by a particularly hysterical semi-coordinated dance routine by Scott, Eric, and Chiddy to  _Sexy Back -_ and Tessa's breathless and a little sweaty by the time the DJ finally puts on a slow song. 

It's the newest Snow Patrol, the one that's hardly left the radio since being released, and everyone pairs off. Scott's arms wrap around her easily, pulling her in close to his body so that she can rest her head against his shoulder as they sway back and forth to the beat of the music. 

He hums along, occasionally singing the words that Tessa didn't realize he knew so well, "If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Her arms tighten around him instinctively as she burrows her face into the crook of his neck - the song a poignant reminder that they won't have this come the fall. She'll be walking these halls alone. 

Of course, she's happy that Scott's going to Western to start his degree and logically she knows that it's the next step in his life (and it's not like he'll really be very far away), but still - it will be different not having him at Medway with her. 

The song ends and Scott kisses her, soft and sweet and reassuring - as if he knows exactly what's going through her head.

He whispers as he repeats the end of the song to her, "Just know that these things will never change for us at all," and Tessa can almost believe in that moment that he's right. 

Natasha Bedingfield's voice starts playing next, breaking apart their moment, and she finds herself getting dragged away by Eric, who's mouthing the lyrics encouragingly at her: 

_Staring at the blank page before you_  
_Open up the dirty window_  
_Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find_

"Come on, Ginger Rogers, let's do this!" His head bops to the music and Tessa knows what he wants her to do - even though they've never done this outside of the safety of someone's basement. 

"You do know that Ginger Rogers was blonde, right? She wasn't named after her hair." Tessa replies snarkily, and Eric just rolls his eyes. 

"Literally only you know that, Tess. Now come on." 

She lets him pull her to his side so that they can do the choreography that they've practiced, and with Scott's encouraging thumbs up Tessa lets herself give in and start lip-syncing with Eric (there's no way she'll sing it, but she can pretend).

_Live your life with arms wide open,_ Tessa repeats the lyric in her head with a smile as Eric spins her around. It's really a pretty good motto. 

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, let's slow it down again." The DJ says in a smooth voice, and Scott rolls his eyes at the well-known opening notes. 

"What? I like this song." Tessa huffs, her hands on her hips as she demands an explanation from him. Normally, Scott's a big fan of Rascal Flatts and would be happy to hear them any time, any place. This reaction seems a little unprecedented.

"It's a good song, but it doesn't apply to us  _at all,_ and it's a little over-dramatic, so I can't take it seriously." 

Tessa shakes her head as he grabs her hand and adopts a ridiculously sad expression, his mouth moving around exaggeratedly as he sings along to the chorus, his free arm gesticulating wildly. 

_What hurts the most was being so close_  
_And havin' so much to say_  
_And watchin' you walk away_  
_And never knowin' what could've been_  
_And not seein' that lovin' you_  
_Is what I was trying to do_

She grabs him by the lapels and pulls him in close so that she doesn't have to yell, "It's supposed to be dramatic and sad, Scott. That's the point!" 

"Do you think we're dramatic and sad, T?" He asks with a grin, and Tessa rolls her eyes. 

"No, but not every song has to apply to us." 

"Thank god." He agrees, taking her hands in a classic waltz hold and spinning her around the room - completely out of style with the music, but making her laugh uncontrollably the entire time. 

 

The principal had decided that year that, instead of unleashing the student body upon Ilderton after the dance ended at eleven, the school would do a lock-in. The intention being to provide a safe alternative to unsupervised parties that might (definitely will) involve underage drinking.

But the thing about senior lock-ins is that it makes people go a little crazy. The overwhelming scent of change hangs in the air, filling lungs with the desire to act out. To make one last memory. To cling to the known before they're forced to step out into the adult world. 

Which is why it's no surprise that someone somehow managed to smuggle in fifty cans of silly string, and ten minutes into the lock-in war breaks out inside the gymnasium. 

Tessa loses track of Scott in the melee, and doesn't see him again until he finds her sitting in the hallway (having forfeited the fight) snuggled up in his suit coat and trying not to notice how languid her limbs are becoming or how heavy her eyelids feel. It must be long after midnight by now.

"There you are. Did you win?" She smiles, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the fact that he's covered head to toe in neon strings.

Scott plops down beside her with a pleased sigh, "Absolutely. What else would you expect?" 

From him and his competitive nature? "Nothing but the best." 

He tilts his head towards her and she obligingly starts picking neon pink silly string out of his hair. 

"This stuff is probably going to stain your white shirt." She warns, unable to prevent the little shiver that runs through her as she gets hit by a gust of air when a door opens and closes nearby. Scott just shrugs and rubs his hands up and down over her arms - attempting to help ward off the chill that seems to accompany staying up late, no matter the external temperature. 

"Oh well. I don't think I'll have another reason to wear a suit for a few years at least. I'll just buy a new shirt then." 

She only hums in response, her eyelids beginning to droop. Between the dancing and the battle and repeat trips to the food tables with the boys, she's exhausted. 

"Tess, you can't fall asleep yet." Scott whispers, nudging her awake. 

"Why not?" 

"Well, for one thing, we're sitting in the hallway. It's cold and uncomfortable and my ass is already numb." He has a point there, her own ass fell asleep ten minutes ago, "Two, we haven't done something very important." 

"What's that?" 

"We haven't ever gotten it on in the library, and that's practically a rite of passage. We have to do this." Scott forces her to stand up and starts ushering her down the hallway towards the musty room, ignoring her protests. 

"Are you serious right now? It's almost two in the morning." She glares at the clock on the wall as they walk past - as if its the little machine's fault that she's so tired. 

"Do you have a better idea of what we can do with our time until the lock-in ends at seven?" 

"Uh, sleep maybe?" Tessa replies sarcastically, but Scott just pulls the library door open and pushes her inside. 

"Plenty of time for that later. Let's find a good spot. There's something romantic about the poetry section, isn't there?" 

"Scott, we're in the high school library. Romantic isn't exactly the word I'd use." 

"You're no fun when you're this tired." Scott pouts, and Tessa just sticks out her tongue at him in return. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just going to get weepy soon if we don't hurry this up." 

"Now _that's_ romantic." Scott deadpans, but he seems determined as he leads her around a row of bookshelves, and Tessa thinks to herself that he better pick a spot soon or he'll be  _getting it on_ with a comatose person. 

She yawns so widely that her jaw pops and eyes water, and Scott sighs.

"Fine, you win. Let's go see if those big bean bags are still in the choir room. We can sleep there." 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow." 

They turn the corner and Tessa slams into his back as he comes to a sudden stop. 

"What the-?" 

Tessa perks up at the weird tone in his voice, and steps around him to see what made him stop walking. She's greeted by the sight of Eric with his shirt unbuttoned and his arms around Michael Wyne - the goalie from the hockey team. 

"Oh." Scott says dumbly. " _Oh."_

"I can explain!" Eric says loudly, backing away from the other boy and scrambling to fix his shirt. 

Scott jerks his head and raises his hand towards Eric to stop him, "No need, man. Uh... Tess and I were just leaving so, as you were." 

Tessa gives Eric and Michael a jaunty little wave, yawning like a roaring lion, and lets Scott lead her away. She'd probably be more shocked if she weren't so sleepy, but as it is all she can think is that she's glad that Eric's found somebody.

But Eric chases after them and grabs Scott's other arm, preventing them from leaving, "Scott, are you mad?" 

"Mad?" Scott looks genuinely surprised, "Why would I be mad? I wish that you'd told me, sure, because I feel kind of like an idiot for not noticing before now. But why would I be mad at you for being yourself? We've been best friends our whole lives, I like you for who you are, Eric." 

"Really?" Tessa's never seen Eric look shy or nervous before, but he does now - the fear that he's going to lose his best friend written plainly across his face. "You're okay with it?" 

"Dude, of course I'm okay with it. Now get back there and have fun." 

Tessa can't help grinning when Eric pulls Scott in for a tight hug, and Scott returns it happily - the two boys clapping each other on the back in that bromance kind of way that guys always seem to do. 

"Bye Eric!" She practically shouts, sometime in the last thirty seconds having slipped into the giddy part of her exhaustion, and Eric chuckles as he kisses her on the cheek.

"Go get some sleep, Tess." 

"I want to, but my legs won't move." She replies with a giggle, her feet having turned into lead underneath her. 

Scott rolls his eyes and lifts her onto his back, and Tessa latches onto him like a koala bear. 

She vaguely hears him saying goodnight to Eric before they're making their way towards the choir room - Tessa occasionally yelling, "Giddy up, cowboy!" as they go (which she knows Scott will never let her live down). 

Thankfully when they arrive the choir room is blissfully empty and the oversized bean bag waits for them in the corner - looking like the most inviting bed she's ever seen. 

Scott sets her down on it carefully, and Tessa flops backwards immediately - gazing upwards at the spotty ceiling tiles while he removes each of her heels, dropping them to the floor with a thud. 

"Here, let me." He gently removes the pins from her hair, brushing it out with his fingers and massaging her scalp a little, and Tessa moans at the contact - earning a kiss underneath her ear.

As soon as he's done, Scott lays down, spooning her from behind, and drapes his suit coat over both of them before wrapping his arms round her and digging his nose into the nape of her neck - breathing deeply. 

"Scott?" She whispers, fidgeting a little against him until he grabs her hip and forces her to stop wiggling.

"Yeah, T?" 

"I'm ready to make out now." She says, the words already slurring as she drifts off to sleep.

He laughs, his voice already thick with sleep to match hers, and kisses the top of her spine, "Go to sleep, kiddo." 

"Mmkay." Tessa murmurs, drifting off into dreamland and wondering idly if sleeping next to him will ever become a regular thing (she hopes so, someday).

The last thing she hears is Scott's quiet, drowsy _goodnight,_ and it makes her smile.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful responses to the last chapter (and this story in general). <3 Sending you all virtual hugs and kisses galore.


	13. August 26, 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Tessa celebrate their 10th anniversary. 
> 
> Rating: E for everyone! (JK - here there be smut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet and possibly the cheesiest thing ever ;)

**all in the golden afternoon**

 

_**August 26, 2006** _

_**Bayfield, Lake Huron** _

 

The afternoon sun streams through the open bedroom window, casting the room in a warm glow and elongating the shadows from the furniture across the carpet. A gentle breeze tickles the curtains and keeps the room from overheating - a cool caress contrasting with the heated kiss of the sunlight. 

Tessa lays on her side alternating between looking at the view over the lake and staring at the way the light makes her hair look like fire - ruby reds and shades of amber dancing together. An outward manifestation of how she feels right now. 

Alive. So, wonderfully, gloriously, alive. 

Behind her, Scott breathes steadily and deeply, lost to the sweet repose of a well-earned afternoon cat nap. 

The two of them had snuck away for the weekend to celebrate their tenth anniversary together before Scott moves into the freshman dorms at Western University in London next week. Tessa had told her parents that she would be at Eric's house all weekend and Scott had told his that he'd be at Chiddy's, and although Tessa is ninety-eight percent sure that neither duo believed them for even a second, they'd let them go all the same. 

Perhaps it was the pending separation, but everyone seemed to be a little more indulgent of their various whims and behaviors these days.

Since arriving a the cabin yesterday they haven't done much besides eat, sleep, lay on the beach, and have sex, and Tessa is enjoying every minute. Alone time like this - the kind that they can luxuriate in, relaxed and unhurried - is incredibly rare and she wants to savor every last minute. Like the sweet juices of a fresh orange, or a piece of rich, creamy chocolate.  

Especially since this is the last time that they're guaranteed to have time together once Scott starts classes. At least until Christmas break. 

But he'd made her promise not to think about school or adulthood or their families or anything else along those lines this weekend, so Tessa shoves those thoughts away inside a box in her brain and focuses on their anniversary instead.

When they'd started dating almost two years ago, they had agreed to stick with celebrating August twenty-sixth (it was the start of everything, Scott had said, and that made it the most important), and as she traces the veins in the arm underneath her head, Tessa can't believe that it's been an entire decade since Scott invited her to play Red Rover and she helped lead them to victory.

_Ten years_. Almost sixty percent of her life has been spent with the boy currently dozing behind her. That's nearly as long as the average marriage (she knows, she looked it up). 

Rolling over carefully so that she doesn't accidentally wake Scott up, Tessa turns to look at him. He's lying on his back, right hand resting palm-side down on his stomach just above where the sheet is covering his lower half, and she lets her eyes wander across his profile, down his throat, and over his naked chest.  

He really isn't a boy anymore. In the last year Scott's lost most of the roundness in his face, grown a few more centimeters, and filled out in a way that has her mouth regularly watering (thanks to his, Eric's, and Chiddy's new commitment to going to the gym). 

He'll be nineteen in a week and living with Eric in their own apartment at school, leaving the last vestiges of childhood behind. 

He's a man now, no doubt about it. 

Her man. 

Overcome by the impulsive desire to feel him beneath her, and driven partially by the steadily growing ache between her legs, Tessa abruptly pushes herself up and over him - straddling his waist and laying down flat over his chest so that her upper body is pressed firmly against his and she can work marks into his skin. Maybe if she makes them dark enough, they'll last through his first week at school. Accompanying him where she cannot. 

She's busy sucking another hickey (fourth or fifth, maybe sixth, she's beginning to lose count) into one of his pecs when Scott finally stirs, blinking groggily at her, and Tessa can see the wheels in his brain start spinning as he realizes what she's doing. 

"How long was I out?" He croaks, ruffling his hair with one hand and stroking along her ribcage with the other. Playing her like he would a piano. 

"No idea," She shrugs, "Too long." 

He looks down at her, taking inventory of what she's been accomplishing, "You've been busy, I see." 

Tessa smirks at him and licks his nipple, blowing on it for added effect and snickering when he shivers and pinches her side in retaliation. 

"So impatient. Won't even let me sleep." 

"We're supposed to be celebrating!" Tessa protests, propping herself up higher on his chest so that he doesn't have to crane his neck so hard to look at her. 

"Then get up here." Scott throws back, pulling at her body a little for emphasis. 

Tessa smiles and moves her head up so that she can kiss him, and Scott's really into it at first (like he always is) - giving as good as she gives him - but after a couple of minutes he pulls away and shakes his head. "No, up  _here_."  He slides his hands down from her ribs to her ass and tugs. 

She looks at him in surprise and her cheeks quickly heat up as she catches on, "What? Do you mean-?" 

"Mmhmm," Scott nods with a lazy smile that belies the heat in his eyes, "All the way up here, T." 

Tessa swallows thickly, heat pooling between her legs even as she feels embarrassment rising in her chest, "We've never done that before." 

"I beg your pardon? I've gone down on you loads of times, thank you very much." Scott says, sounding like a man trying to defend his honor, and Tessa can't help the little giggle that escapes at the sight of him so offended. 

"No, I know. And it's amazing. I just meant we haven't done it in that position before. I'm not sure that I can." 

"Tess," Scott says slowly, "I'd never make you do something that you're uncomfortable with, but I'm sure you  _can,_ and it would be awesome." 

"Really? And you would want... that?"

That's the real crux of her concern. It's not that the idea doesn't make her so aroused that she can't see straight, it's that she never thought it would be something Scott would enjoy. Although he's always seemed to like going down on her before... maybe she's overthinking it and letting her own hangups get in the way.

"Yes," Scott replies simply, "I've thought about it a lot." 

Well fuck if that doesn't send her heart racing ten thousand miles a minute. 

Tessa sits up, smiling a little shyly and preparing to move, "You think about stuff like that?" 

"I think about eating you out at least twice a day, T. I promise this is something that I want." 

" _Oh_." She sighs, closing her eyes and digging her fingernails into his chest. Just picturing it sends goosebumps sprouting all over. 

Scott hauls her up his body without warning, looking up at her with hooded eyes when she squeaks in surprise, before saying, "Yeah,  _oh_." 

His hands grip the inside of her thighs as he lowers her down, and then his mouth is on her - pressing warm open-mouthed kisses to her most sensitive places before getting to work with his tongue - and Tessa's hand shoots out to the wall for support, the other one flying to his hair - burying itself in the dark strands as he drives her higher and higher and higher until fireworks are bursting behind her eyelids.

She falls to his side with languid movements, sated and happy, and then it's her turn to nap - safely ensconced in his arms. 

 

\-------

 

Eventually they manage to shower and eat dinner, and then Tessa dons Scott's over-sized red Canada hoodie before he guides her down the wooden staircase towards the beach. He's carrying a blanket and small basket - apparently planning some sort of dessert under the stars - and although she's curious, for once Tessa doesn't pester him about what he's planning. Content instead to remain silent and take in all the beauty around her. 

Nothing settles her soul like being near the water. 

The sand on the beach shines grey in the silvery moonlight and the sparkling indigo waves lap up against it at a leisurely pace. Everything feels as if time has come to a stop just for them, creating a little piece of heaven on Earth. 

Scott spreads out the ratty old quilt over the ground, setting down the basket beside it and opening the lid to reveal a bottle of champagne and two glasses safely stowed inside.

"Champagne? Really?" Tessa asks happily, settling in between his legs on the blanket and accepting the glass that he hands her with a smile. 

"Yep. I couldn't afford anything made of diamonds like the internet suggested, but at least this sparkles. Happy tenth anniversary, kiddo." 

She giggles as they clink their glasses together and leans her head back to kiss him on the cheek, "Happy anniversary." 

The champagne bubbles across her tongue, living up to its reputation, and Tessa closes her eyes so that she can fully appreciate the taste for the first time - missing Scott's nervous gulp as he downs all of his in one go.

"I got you something else." 

"I thought we agreed no presents." Tessa opens her eyes to glare at him in protest, feeling immediately guilty. They'd specifically agreed that a weekend away was the only thing that they needed in order to celebrate. 

"It's not really your typical present, and it's actually for both of us," He explains, taking her glass and setting it down so that he can wrap his arms around her without spilling anything, "I know that you're nervous about me going to college and moving out of Ilderton, and while I love the bellybutton ring," He slides his hand under the hoodie, caressing the little piece of silver and making her shudder, "I thought that maybe it would be nice if we had something a little more obvious. Here." 

He reaches into the bottom of the basket and hands her a piece of paper, and Tessa reads it carefully out loud. 

**Know ye herewith that the International Star Registry doth hereby redesignate star number HR 0321 Dec +54 55 13 to the name VirtueMoir.**

**Know ye further that this star will henceforth be known by this name.**

**This name is permanently filed in the Registry's vault in Switzerland.**

Tessa's voice trails off and she can feel the tears threatening to fall. "You named a star after us?" 

"Yeah. That way whenever we're apart we can look up and find each other." Scott replies quietly, squeezing his arms around her a little tighter. 

"Which one is it? Show me." She demands eagerly, and he takes her hand in his and raises it towards the familiar outline of Cassiopeia. 

"You see that star on the bottom left of the W shape? That's called Segin. Just a little to the left - you see that one?" 

"Yes." Tessa nods in anticipation, her blood racing as she waits for him to finish. 

"That's actually the Heart Nebula. Our star is inside that." 

It's just about the cheesiest, most romantic thing that Tessa has ever heard and she wastes no time climbing up onto her knees and turning around to settle in his lap so that she can face him, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

Scott looks at her in alarm, his hands fluttering around her body as if he's not sure what to do, "Are you crying!? Don't you like it?" 

" _Like_ it? Scott, I LOVE it. It's perfect. You're perfect. And I love you so damn much." 

Tessa barely gives him time to mutter  _I love you, too_ before her mouth is on his, kissing him with all that she is, putting every ounce of love inside her body into it. 

She is going to miss him once he's gone, but she's no longer afraid. He won't be far away and he'll come home to visit as often as he can, and she finally knows deep down that they're going to be just fine. What's one year of living in different towns to them? They can handle it.

After all, they're written in the stars. 

 


	14. December 31, 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> Tequila, a game of pool, a tryst, and a conversation. 
> 
> Rating: E

**we'll take a cup o' kindness yet**

****

**_December 31, 2006_ **

**_The King Edward, Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

The King Edward is packed wall to wall with bodies for the holiday, and the comforting scent of beer and wood polish and fried foods washes over Scott like a warm blanket.

He loves this pub. Loves the forest green walls and the dark wood and the incessant sounds of four different sporting events going on all at once on various screens inside the relatively small space.

The pub had become their favorite hangout spot in the last few months – turning into the place where he and Eric meet up with Tessa and Chiddy nearly every weekend on their visits home from Western University. Technically, Tessa and Chiddy are still too young to drink, but the owner (a rotund man who’s known all of them practically since birth) is a staple in the Ilderton community and lets them have a few pints anyway whenever they're here.

Which is why when Tessa, who is currently sitting on the stool behind Scott with an arm draped over his shoulder as he stands in front of her watching the New Year’s Eve show on the CBC, occasionally steals a sip of his beer, the old man merely winks at her and laughs when she grins and waves back.

“Have you given any more thought to the question I asked you?” Scott asks, downing the rest of his pint after taking the glass back from Tessa and flagging down a waiter for a refill. He can feel her tense up behind him, and he tries not to let it sting.

"I told you already. I don’t want us to make the mistake of moving forward too fast.” Tessa mutters, her arm falling away from his shoulder as she creates some space between them, giving Scott the opportunity to turn around and face her.

He keeps himself positioned between her thighs, refusing to let her escape the conversation, “Tess, we’ve been dating for two years and best friends for eight before that, nothing we do could be considered moving too quickly.”

“Moving in together is a pretty big step, though. We might end up hating each other.” She ducks her head as she talks and fiddles with the hem of his shirtsleeve, and hope blooms in his chest. It’s not a no, she’s just nervous about saying yes. He can work with that.

"There isn’t a world where I could ever hate you, and I already know about your superstitions and tendency to be a clean freak, and you already know about my bad habit of leaving my shoes all over the place – what could go wrong?” Scott gives her his best puppy-dog eyes and lopsided smile, and Tessa rolls her eyes even as she tangles her fingers in his hair and wraps her legs around his waist.

“Won’t Eric be mad if I replace him as your roommate?” She teases, flicking her head towards where the man in question is currently hotly debating the election of Stephen Harper with some guy at the bar – his voice carrying over the crowd and annoying everyone around him. Nobody wants to discuss politics on New Year’s Eve.  

“Maybe. But cuddling in bed with him just isn’t as nice as it is with you, he’ll understand that.” Scott jokes, earning a snort and a few giggles from Tessa. She slides her hand around to tug playfully at his earlobe.

“I knew it. I knew you two were cozying up between classes.”

He laughs and kisses her, the taste of cheap beer on her lips and the scent of her vanilla lotion mingling with the smells of the pub.

“Come on, T, move in with me when you come to Western. I promise I’ll be a good study buddy.” He whispers against her lips, his heart thumping painfully inside his chest.

They’ve done so well these last few months making their relationship work - calling each other every day, seeing each other on the weekends, but it’s been hard. No matter what they do, it doesn’t change the fact that Scott has homework that’s actually difficult now, and midterms and finals that take hours of preparation, and new friends that require his attention. He’s tired of having to carve time out to see his girlfriend - he wants her there with him.

If that means they move in together a little earlier than most couples would, well, sue him. He loves her and he wants to bring her with him into this new life.

“Oh yeah? What will we study? Anatomy?” She grins, cocking her head, and Scott kisses her again.

He pulls back and winks at her, his hands sliding down her spine to cup her ass, “Among other things.”

“I-“

She starts to speak, and Scott holds his breath as he waits to learn what she plans to do with his heart – because it absolutely lies in her soft hands right now (when does it not?). But before she can answer, they’re interrupted by Chiddy, who is desperately trying to distract Eric from punching out "Mr. Politics" at the bar.

“Alright! Classic 8-Ball. Tess and I are one team, Scott and Eric the other. Right now. Come on.”

He drags Eric towards the pool table, grabbing Scott by the back of his shirt on the way, and begins racking up the balls.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Scott protests, “Why do you get to be with Tess?”

“Because you two are too good to be on the same team.” Chiddy explains with an easy shrug, handing a pool cue to Tessa and giving her a high-five that makes Scott grumble.

“That’s fair,” Tessa acknowledges with a wide grin at Chiddy, “Let’s show these college boys who’s still boss.”

“Ha! You wish, Virtch.” Eric shoots back, getting ready to break, and all thoughts of convincing Tessa to move in with him fly out of Scott’s head as he focuses on winning the game.

 

Forty-five minutes and two games of pool later, shot glasses line the edge of the table and Scott sags against a chair that probably belongs to somebody else, feeling a little overwhelmed by the amount of tequila pumping through his blood and clouding his brain.

Eric had had the brilliant idea that they should all take a shot every time somebody misses, and now they’re all three sheets to the wind. Except for Chiddy, who had named himself the designated driver after shot number two and stuck to only drinking water (earning a solid two minute round of booing from Eric and Scott while Tessa managed to knock two balls in the pocket at once).

Only a few balls remain on the table in what is the third game of their fierce competition, each team having won one apiece and deciding that they needed a tie-breaker to determine the ultimate winner, and although it had started out a competition between friends – it had devolved into a totally different kind of competition between him and Tess.

He watches her now – the way her back slopes against the green velvet covered table when she lines up her shot, her breasts peeking out from the top of her V-neck shirt – and scowls. She knows exactly what she's doing.

Chiddy leans in close to her, too close, and whispers something to her that has Tessa bursting with laughter.

“Could you please stop whispering in my girlfriend’s ear and let her take the shot?” He means for it to be a joke, but it comes out gruff and annoyed. Something that’s definitely the tequila’s fault and not at all the result of his own possessive nature that seems to run unchecked when he’s had too much to drink. 

Tessa looks up at him and smirks before hitting the white ball into a striped one – almost making it into the pocket in the opposite corner.

She apologizes to Chiddy for missing and they all take a shot before she walks around the table to stand by Scott's side, sliding her hand surreptitiously into his back pocket and squeezing.

“Jealous that we’re winning, Moir?”

“You’re not winning, kiddo, and don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.” He warns, sliding his own hand underneath the hem of her top and scratching along her lower back – pleased at the way her eyelids flutter closed.

“Who says that I don’t intend to finish?” She shoots back with one last pat on his ass before walking away to talk to Chiddy again.

Scott knows a challenge when he sees one. Let the real games begin.

It starts out small - licking lips, casual innuendo laced into the conversation, but eventually it heats up.

Tessa catches him staring a few minutes later, his eyes fixed on the sliver of skin where she’d been scratching along her stomach and left her shirt ridden up a few centimeters - imaging all the ways he could kiss along that line before venturing further. She makes sure that he’s paying attention before twisting her hand obscenely up and down her cue.

He’s never been jealous of a wooden stick before, but, well, there’s a first time for everything.

He gets his revenge later when she moves around the table to take her shot – the last one she and Chiddy need before they can go for the eight ball to win – and he places his hands on either side of her waist and pulls her hips backwards, her ass pressed fully against his front. He knows that she can feel his reaction to her through her short denim skirt, and she pushes back further in response – grinding imperceptibly.

“Hey! Stop tampering with my partner!” Chiddy protests, “That’s sabotage!”

Tessa laughs, loud and full, as she pushes Scott away so that she can focus, and he doesn’t even care when she successfully hits her ball in the pocket. And he doesn’t hear Eric’s angry huff when she lands the eight ball too.

All he can think about is getting Tessa alone as quickly as possible. And he just so happens to know that his truck is parked out back.

“Hey, T,” He interrupts her victory dance with Chiddy, ignoring Eric’s demands for a rematch without the teammate tampering, “There’s that _thing_ I wanted to show you outside, remember?”

“Oh,” Tessa stops dancing to look at him, her bright green eyes going wide with understanding, “That _thing_. I remember.”

Eric makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat and shoos them away, “You guys are so obvious. Get out.”

They don’t have to be told twice.

 

They stumble through the lightly falling snow to Scott’s truck – nearly falling multiple times as they refuse to stop kissing for even a second, even though the ground is slick and they probably should be more careful.

She tastes like tequila now, straight from the bottle, mixed with something uniquely _her_. A pure shot of Tessa that hits him stronger than any liquor ever could and clouds his head with thoughts of love and desire in equal measure.

Scott manages to open up the truck door and they climb into the back seat – Tessa immediately straddling his lap as they make-out, grinding wildly against him until his hips start bucking upwards of their own accord.

He’s lost most of his coordination, so all he can do is pray that he’s hitting her in the right spot to make her feel good, because the way she’s moving against him feels fucking amazing.

“Can you – off?” Tessa murmurs against his collarbone, sucking a deep purple hickey there that makes him grateful that it’s winter and sweater season – his brothers are home for the holidays too and will definitely mock him if they see it.

“Off what?” He practically groans, losing patience with the clasp of her bra and just shoving his hands underneath the cups instead. It’s a tight fit and the underwire pinches his wrists, but he really doesn’t care once he’s got his hands on her warm breasts.

“Pants, of course.”

She says it like he’s being particularly slow tonight, but it’s not his fault. He’s drunk off liquor and high on her – a potent combination that makes it impossible to remember his own damn name.

He groans in disappointment at the prospect of moving his hands, hesitant to leave her soft chest behind, but eventually manages to undo his pants and wiggle them down along with his boxers – his erection bobbing free and somehow still working despite the frigid air.

Tessa takes him in hand, pumping a few times, before hoisting her skirt up around her waist and trying to wriggle her leggings down towards her knees.

It quickly becomes apparent that this position will not work, as Tessa can’t get her leggings to stretch wide enough to accommodate Scott.

"This is hopeless!” Scott bemoans after they struggle and fail to find an angle that works, his head falling backwards onto the top of the seat (the headrest having been lost long ago).

“No! We’ll make this work.” Tessa sounds almost angry as she twists around to face forward in his lap, nearly taking out his dick with her knee in the process and bringing the night to a premature and permanent end.

“What are you doing?”

“This.” She states confidently, tugging her leggings and underwear down around her knees in one swift motion.

“Oh,” Scott replies rather brilliantly, his eyes dropping to stare at her naked ass, and Tessa giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.

At her instruction, he grabs her hips and guides her down onto his throbbing erection, loud moans escaping both of them as he bottoms out inside of her.

She’s so _hot_ compared to the temperature of the truck around them (he probably should have turned on the heater, _oh well_ ), and something feels different this time that Scott can’t quite put his finger on, but that he attributes to the tequila and the angle of fucking her from behind.

Tessa’s head falls backwards onto his shoulder as she starts lifting herself off of him and sinking back down, and Scott focuses on timing his thrusts to keep up with her – bringing his right hand up to spread out over her stomach, his index and middle fingers resting on either side of her bellybutton piercing, so that he can help keep her steady.

_Warm. Yes. So good. Love you_.

Those four thoughts are the only things cycling around in his head as the windows steam up and the world around them disappears.

Eventually, Tessa reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers together and guiding both of them down her stomach and between her legs so that they can both touch her clit. Their cold fingers simultaneously making her shiver and buck harder against their hands. Occasionally, she slides their fingers further down to stroke Scott's erection, making him jerk wildly out of rhythm, which in turn makes Tessa laugh, breathless and happy and sending pleasant vibrations through both of their bodies.

Overwhelmed by the sensations, Scott buries his head in Tessa’s neck and _bites_ , and that’s all it takes for her to find release – arching beautifully as she clenches around him, triggering his own orgasm.

They come down slowly, boneless and panting heavily, and the frost becomes immediately more noticeable as their bodies struggle to regulate their temperature after overheating.

“We forgot our coats.” Scott observes quietly, and they both burst out laughing - as if lacking proper winter wear is the funniest thing in the world.

A knock on the window disturbs their giddy, drunk, post-coital bliss, and Chiddy’s harsh voice calls out, “It’s after midnight. You guys missed it. I’ve got your coats and, God help me, I’ll be driving you home. There’s no way I’m letting Scott drive tonight.”

"Coming!" Scott yells back, and Tessa snickers at the double-entendre, earning a swift, but brief, tickle-attack to the ribs as punishment.

She readjusts her leggings and skirt and bra while Scott does up his pants, both of them shivering but smiling as they climb out of the car.

He probably should be embarrassed, or at least contrite, at the sight of Chiddy’s disapproving glare, but instead he just grins and claps the man on his back.

“Thanks for the coats, man.”

“I hope you’re proud of yourselves.” Chiddy replies, shaking his head, “Get in the car.”

 

Tessa falls asleep on the short drive to her house, sagging into his side and drooling on his shoulder – which Scott finds adorable. Much more adorable than the chainsaw level snoring coming from Eric in the front seat. 

“Do you need help getting her inside?” Chiddy asks after he parks in the driveway, moving to unbuckle his seatbelt, but Scott stops him.

“No, I’ve got her.”

He’s definitely still pretty tipsy, but he’d never drop Tess and she’s as light as a feather anyway, so he scoops her up bridal-style and carries her inside without a second thought.

He kicks the front door closed behind him and comes to a dead stop when the lights turn on.        

“Oh. Hi, Kate.”

Tessa’s mother stands in the entryway in her dressing gown, her perfectly styled eyebrows inching up towards her neat, blonde hairline.

“Hello. Is she-“

“She’s asleep.” Scott cuts in, pointing out the obvious, yet omitting the truth. _A_ _sleep_ sounds so much better than _drunk_.

Kate sighs and gestures to the staircase on her right, “Can you manage to get her up to her room?”

“Absolutely.” Scott nods, readjusting his grip and making sure not to knock Tessa’s head against anything as he goes. It’s much harder than he’d anticipated, especially since his legs feel more like sticks of jelly than blood and bone and muscle, but he gets there eventually.

He lays Tessa carefully down on the bed, taking her giant UGG boots off one by one and putting them away in her closet. After that he heads towards the bathroom and fills up a glass with water and grabs the Tylenol out of the drawer, placing them on her bedside table for when she’ll inevitably need them in the morning. Lastly, he pulls the comforter over her and tucks her in, dropping a sloppy little kiss on her temple and whispering _goodnight_. 

She looks so peaceful when she's asleep, and Scott wants nothing more than to climb into the bed beside her and snuggle with her until the morning, but he has a feeling Kate wouldn't be too happy with him if he did that. 

He turns to go, and nearly screams at the sight of Kate in the doorway watching him, an oddly pensive look on her face that makes him nervous and jumpy.

“I guess I’ll get going.”

"You didn’t drive here, did you?” Kate asks, and Scott _almost_ feels defensive, but then he realizes she sounded concerned, not judgmental, and the fight goes out of him as quickly as it arrived.

“No. Chiddy’s waiting outside.”

“Good.” She says with a nod, and then she surprises him further by smiling at him, “Thank you for bringing her home. Happy New Year, Scott.”

“Happy New Year, Mrs. Virtue.” He replies, feeling like maybe this is a sign that 2007 has good things in store for him.

 

* * *

 

 

**_January 1, 2007_ **

****

Tessa follows the rest of her family slowly across the snowy fields towards the tobogganing hill, her feet weighing heavy like lead. Her mom had insisted she join the family for their New Year’s Day tradition, despite the fact that she’d woken up that morning with a raging headache, a mouth that tasted like something had died inside of it, and no memory of how she got home or into her own bed. And while the first two were things that she could solve, the third one was a mystery.

She’d almost believe she walked up there herself, if it wasn’t for the water and the medicine waiting for her. That has Scott written all over it. Which means that sometime after she’d beaten him at pool and they’d stumbled out to his truck, he’d taken her home.

Her mom hasn’t said anything to her, so Tessa figures she must not know about her escapades – which is a small miracle – but even so, she’s never, ever drinking like that again. It’s not worth the pain or risk of getting caught and grounded for a month.

“Goooood morning, Vietnam!” Scott says in his best Robin Williams impression, bounding up to her with a grin on his face that, if she had the energy, she would wipe off with a swift snowball. “How are you feeling?”

Curse him for being such a morning person, even hungover. 

“Like someone ran over my head with a truck. _Why_ are you so happy?”

“Better tolerance, I guess,” He replies with a shrug and a quick peck on her cheek, “Here.”

He hands a water bottle to her, and she looks at it curiously, “What’s this for?”

“It’s a screwdriver. Hair of the dog that bit ya, T.” He waggles his eyebrows, and Tessa cringes at the prospect of consuming any more alcohol.

“ _You_ bit me,” She throws back instead, “Multiple times.”

She doesn’t remember when or how, but she definitely found the marks to prove it that morning while getting ready to take a shower.

"Well, here’s my hair.” He grabs her hand and drops it on top of his head with a plop and a cheesy grin - not at all apologetic for his wandering mouth – and she can’t help but laugh at him.

“You’re incorrigible.”

Scott nudges her shoulder and takes back the bottle, swigging some of it into his mouth and flinching at the taste, “Using big words like that this early and hungover? You’re going to be fine.”

“Maybe,” She agrees slowly, “But I think I’ll just enjoy watching the rest of you sled instead of subjecting my brain to more trauma.”

“Suit yourself!” Scott replies, kissing her quickly before running off to join his brothers, leaving the blended taste of orange juice and vodka on her lips. Tessa shakes her head affectionately as she watches him go.

Her mom comes over to stand beside her, handing her a cup of hot chocolate that Tessa accepts much more readily – immediately taking a sip and letting the warm cocoa flavor sit on her taste buds for a minute before making its way down into her stomach.

“You know, I think maybe I was wrong.” Her mom says with a quiet hum, her eyes fixed on the bottom of the hill where all the Moir and Virtue kids are currently engaged in an epic snowball fight.

Tessa looks over at her curiously, still happily drinking her cocoa, “About what?”

“Scott.” Her mom replies nonchalantly, and Tessa nearly chokes on her drink – the liquid running down her chin as she dabs at it with one of her mittens, “Specifically the fact that Scott’s been doing so well at Western.”

Tessa has no idea how to respond to that. The two of them don’t discuss Scott very often, if at all, these days, and Tessa’s stomach floods with apprehension at where this conversation might go.

“I’ve also been thinking about the fact that you’re on track to graduate from Medway at the top of your class this year. Maybe I’ve misjudged him and looked down on your relationship too harshly.” She muses, and Tessa can hardly believe her ears.

After all this time, her mom is finally letting go of her unfounded worries that Scott would be a bad influence and a distraction and recognizing that they’ve been nothing but good for each other all along.

Kate continues on, not noticing the ecstatic smile that’s spreading across her daughter’s face, “I know that you’ve been whispering about moving in together when you get to Western in the fall,” she does look at her then, and Tessa’s smile falls – replaced by a grimace. Now she fully expects this to turn into a lecture, “Don’t look at me like that, you were talking about it in the kitchen a few days ago, it’s hardly my fault I overheard – and while I’m not sure that it’s the best idea, I want you to know that I won’t try to stop you. As long as you and Scott keep your grades up, of course.”

“Are you serious?” Tessa asks breathlessly, her headache forgotten as she lets her mother’s words sink in.

“Yes, I am,” She replies softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Tessa’s ear, “He’s a good boy, Tessa, and he loves you. I’m sorry that I haven't always seen it.”

“This means so much to me, Mom. Thank you.”

There isn’t a single better way to start the new year that Tessa can think of than to hear her mother finally accept her relationship with Scott. She can’t wait to tell him – he’s going to be so surprised and relieved and happy.

And with her mother’s approval, knowing that there won’t be any resistance to the plan, Tessa knows that she can give Scott the answer that he wants.

With a permanent grin on her face, Tessa takes her mom's hand in her own and thinks, _2007 definitely has good things in store for us_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is THAT NYE. Which means it's pretty much going to be varying levels of angst from here on out. But at least you know there's a happy ending! :)


	15. January 26-27, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the best thing about Switzerland? 
> 
> I don't know, but the flag's a big plus!
> 
> AKA: The one where Tessa takes an important test. 
> 
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cheesy joke... mostly... not really ;)

**i'm icarus, i'm falling**

 

_**January 26-27, 2007** _

_**Toronto, Ontario** _

 

Cold grey light filters in through the open curtains of Tessa's bedroom window as gentle snowflakes fall from the sky, melting as they come in contact with the ground. It's a peaceful and serene afternoon, and completely at odds with the environment inside the room. 

There are piles of clothes everywhere and outfit options tossed together and then discarded across the bed and the floor. Various shoes are scattered across the carpet leading out of her closet like a trail of breadcrumbs. 

Her mom is taking her and Jordan on a girl's trip to Toronto for the weekend while her dad is away in Calgary for a conference, and choosing the right clothes is essential. She'll clean up the mess before they leave, but right now she needs to make sure that she looks as cute as Jordan inevitably will. 

The older she gets, the more fashion grows in importance to her, and Tessa refuses to be outshone by her sister in the wardrobe department (even if half of her clothes are Jordan's hand-me-downs). 

Tessa mentally scrolls through the packing list in her head, ticking off each item as she loads it into her suitcase. There's definitely something important missing, she just isn't sure what it is. 

Her favorite sapphire blue sweater? Check.

The jeans that Scott says make her ass look amazing? Check.

Underwear? Check.

Deodorant? A ha! That's what she's forgetting. 

She heads to her en-suite and grabs the stick off of the shelf, accidentally knocking the box of tampons onto the floor and sending little yellow packages spilling out across the tile. The happy color belying the miserable condition that they help treat. 

_Tampons! Do I need those?_ She wonders, stuffing all of them back inside the box pell-mell and setting it on the counter. Slowly (math is Scott's subject, not hers), she counts backwards in her head and freezes. 

_That can't be right_. 

Running back into her room, deodorant in one hand and a couple of tampons still smashed in the other - all of which she tosses onto the bed without looking - Tessa grabs the 2006 calendar out of her trash can and flips to December. 

December 15th. That was the first day of her last period. She should have started her next one around the twelfth of January, and although her cycle isn't always exactly twenty-eight days, she's never been two weeks late before. 

A wave of nausea sweeps through her so strong that she collapses onto her chair, barely managing to avoid falling to the floor. 

There's just no way that she could be...

She can't even bring herself to think the word. It's just not possible. This can't be happening. She always,  _always_ , uses a condom. Had taken all of her mom's lectures and warnings to heart and been responsible  _every single time_ that she was with Scott. 

This can't be happening. 

Tessa tucks her head between her knees (she heard somewhere once that it helps with shock) and tries to remember how to breathe. 

_If you use condoms perfectly every single time you have sex, they're 98% effective at preventing pregnancy._

_If you use condoms perfectly every single time you have sex, they're 98% effective at preventing pregnancy._

_If you use condoms perfectly every single time you have sex, they're 98% effective at preventing pregnancy._

She chants to herself, rocking slightly back and forth as her breathing begins to regulate. Those are the statistics, which means statistics are on her side. 98% is a good number - an excellent number! It's fine.

She's fine. 

But then a hazy memory resurfaces - a memory of beer and tequila shots and a game of pool... and a hasty coupling in the frigid back seat of Scott's truck. 

_Shit._

They hadn't used a condom. In their drunken desire for each other and teenage impatience, they'd forgotten the one thing that Tessa had sworn she'd never have sex without. 

Her blood runs cold and she dashes to the bathroom - vomiting for real this time.  

This can't be happening. Not after one time of unprotected sex. Surely the Universe wouldn't betray her like that. This isn't morning sickness, it's just anxiety over a minor irregularity that's making her throw up. 

She's not... she's just not.

Her body is just a little off rhythm, that's all. 

Tessa climbs up off the floor, flushing the toilet and vigorously brushing her teeth, before walking back into her bedroom and stubbornly packing the tampons along with the rest of her things - ignoring the boulder-sized ball of dread taking up residence inside her gut. 

Her period will probably show up tonight. She's sure of it. 

 

 

It doesn't. 

 

\-------

 

"Okay, what is up with you today?" Jordan asks as she climbs into the queen sized hotel bed with Tessa, a hint of accusation in her voice. Their mom had just left to meet up with some old college friends for dinner, leaving the girls alone for the first time all weekend and giving Jordan the perfect opportunity to confront her. 

"What do you mean?" Tessa asks nervously, keeping her eyes fixed on the Survivor rerun playing on the TV. 

"You've been quiet and withdrawn all day. And don't think I haven't noticed you biting your nails again. I thought you quit that habit?" Jordan nods towards Tessa's fingers - her thumbnail currently resting between her teeth - and Tessa drops her hand like it's the key evidence in a murder trial. 

"I did quit. I'm not biting... just nibbling." 

"Uh huh, sure. You've also hardly eaten a thing - you even turned down a second macaron at lunch! And I know you love those. What gives?" 

Tessa sighs and glances at her sister, who has genuine concern written all over her pretty face, "Sorry. I'm just not feeling well." 

Jordan make a funny expression to tease her, before schooling her features into something more sympathetic, "Stomach bug?" 

"Something like that." Tessa acquiesces, hoping that the subject can be dropped now that she's answered the question and they can go back to watching the show. 

"Let's go get some Pepto Bismol or something. There's a pharmacy around the corner." 

She's already up off the bed and looking for her shoes before Tessa can reply - always a woman of action - and Tessa hurries to try and stop her. 

"No! No, Jojo, I'll be fine." 

"Hey, no reason to suffer if you don't have to. Let's go." Jordan tosses Tessa's coat at her, hitting her in the face with a laugh, then lifts up her shoes in a threatening manner. "Do I need to throw these too?" 

"Ugh. Fine!" Tessa rolls off the bed, shrugging on her coat with a glare, "Fine. Let's go." 

 

They walk into the pharmacy, a blast of hot air hitting them in the face from the large vent right above the door, and Jordan takes about half a second to peruse the signs before making a beeline for the aisle with flu and stomach medications. 

Tessa follows her with over-exaggerated grumpiness, making Jordan chuckle and pull her by the sleeve so that they can search for the iconic bright pink bottle on the shelves together. 

"Found it!" Jordan calls out from the end of the aisle, "They put this stupid display in front of it." She gestures to the temporary cardboard shelves holding boxes of Clearblue pregnancy tests with a 10% OFF sign at the top, making an irritated noise in the back of her throat.

"Oh." Tessa breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, and she can physically feel all the blood leaving her face. 

"Tess? What's wrong?" Jordan steps forward and places a hand on her elbow, then freezes. Her head twisting back and forth between Tessa's eyes and the display - understanding dawning on her face. "Oh, _Tess_." 

Her voice is full of regret and pity, and Tessa wrenches her arm free of Jordan's hold.  _Walk away, Tessa, shrug it off. Act like it's nothing_ , she tries to command herself, but her legs don't seem to be listening. She just stands there, staring, and feeling like her entire world has zeroed in on this moment. Here in this random pharmacy in Toronto that smells vaguely like corn chips and antiseptic.

"Do you think that you might be...?" Her sister asks, gesturing towards the tests, and Tessa shakes her head back and forth so hard that she nearly gives herself a headache. 

"No. It's not possible." Tessa states, her thumbnail finding its way to her teeth again as she avoids Jordan's questioning eyes. Her voice sounds nervous and unsure, even to herself.

"Let's buy one. Just in case." Jordan says with a firm nod, grabbing one of the boxes - protesting when Tessa reactively knocks it out of her hand, sending it clattering across the linoleum floor. "Tessa! What the hell?" 

"I'm sure it's not necessary, Jo. I've just got a stomach bug. It  _has_ to be a stomach bug." 

"Tessa," Jordan comes around to stand in front of her, placing her hands on Tessa's shoulders, and she can feel her eyes watering despite her best efforts not to cry, "Be honest with me." 

A rebellious tear breaks free and runs down her cheek, and Tessa wipes it away furiously, then nods. If a test is what it takes to set her fears to rest and get Jordan to stop looking at her like that, then so be it. 

"Buy it." 

 

In the end, Jordan buys five different kinds of tests, each box containing a two-pack. "Ten tests, Tess. Just to be safe. The first one might be faulty." 

She also buys a six pack of red Gatorade, answering Tessa's curious look with, "You're going to need a lot of pee." 

 

 

"I don't think I'm doing this right!" Tessa calls out from the bathroom, huffing in frustration as she attempts to follow the first test's instructions. 

"How hard could it be? Just... get it a little wet." 

She cringes at Jordan's suggestion, and shoots back, "You try peeing on something tiny for exactly five seconds without making a mess or losing your balance!" 

"Lots of women do it, Tess." 

"Bullshit." Tessa mutters, setting the test on the counter. 

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" 

"That's what I thought. Are you done?" 

"Yes." 

Jordan opens the bathroom door and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, "How long do we wait?" 

"It says three minutes." Tessa replies, sitting down next to her on the cold white porcelain and trying desperately to fight the urge to run away. She almost wishes Scott were here, but then that would bring a whole other set of problems that she's not prepared to deal with right now.  

"Okay," Jordan pulls out her new Blackberry, a Christmas present, and sets the timer, "Talk to me while we wait. Tell me about school." 

Tessa gawps at her, "Right  _now_!?" She can't be serious. School is pretty much the last thing on her mind at this moment. She doesn't really feel like debating the literary merits of  _Candide_ while waiting to find out the fate of her future in the bathroom of a hotel.

_All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds_ \- ha! Tessa would have a few things to say to Voltaire about THAT right now. 

"Got any better ideas?" Jordan throws back, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head. 

"Fine," Tessa rolls her eyes, sitting on her hands so that she doesn't bite her nails as she waits for the phone's buzzer to go off, "School is mostly going well. My advanced calculus class this semester is a nightmare, but Scott..." 

She goes quiet, her voice trailing off.  _Oh God, Scott, what will I tell him?_  Jordan has to clear her throat to get Tessa talking again and stop her from spiraling down a hole of hypothetical scenarios. 

_What if he breaks up with me?_

_What if he's so mad he just leaves?_

_What if this destroys us?_

Giving herself a quick mental shake, Tessa says, "Anyway, it's a hard class, but I'm managing." 

Jordan keeps her talking all the way until the timer goes off, the shrill sound bouncing off of the hard tile walls and clanging through Tessa's head like the opening bell of a wrestling match. 

"You can check now." Her sister says quietly, and Tessa gulps - reaching out for the stick on the shelf. 

Her hand is shaking so badly that she nearly drops it twice as she brings it close enough to read. 

At the last second, she clamps her eyelids shut and tries not to hyperventilate. 

_I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this._

Jordan touches her knee softly and squeezes it once in support, and Tessa forces herself to look. 

**+**

The little plus sign stares up at her, clear as day. There's no mistaking it. 

Wordlessly, Tessa shows it to Jordan, and her sister frowns with a heavy sigh. "Maybe it's a false positive. Those can happen. Let's try the others." 

 

Nine more tests later, Tessa sits on the bathroom floor with quiet tears streaming steadily down her cheeks, surrounded by plus signs and double lines and tests that show  ** _pregnant_** in bold, black, unmistakable letters. 

"It'll be alright, Tess." Jordan whispers, sounding almost as shocked as Tessa feels, rubbing slow circles into her back and trying to keep her calm (it's the only thing preventing Tessa from full on sobbing right now). 

"No it won't." She stutters back, blowing her nose into the tissue that Jordan hands her - tossing it towards the garbage and missing the shot in what feels like a mockery of her situation.

"Yes it will. Scott loves you."

Her body heaves with the sobs that she's trying to contain, making it difficult to speak, "S-s-s-so?" 

" _So_ you're in this together. He's not going to let you do this alone. And you have me, and Mom... probably... and I'm sure that Alma will understand." Jordan points out practically, picking up the tissue and placing it in the garbage where it belongs. 

"But what about college? And a career? I haven't even graduated  _high school_ yet. I'm too young to be a mom!" Tessa cries out, bending over and burying her face in her knees - probably smearing mascara all over her sweatpants, but she doesn't care. 

"I know, I know," Jordan says soothingly, gathering her up in her arms and tucking Tessa's head underneath her chin, "This sucks." 

Tessa laughs, mirthless and hollow, "It  _really_ sucks." 

"What will you say to Scott?" 

"I don't know. I'll see Dr. Lovett first and make sure that the tests aren't wrong. No use freaking him out if they turn out to be false." 

"And if she confirms the results?" Jordan points out softly, gently stroking Tessa's hair. 

"I'll figure something out. He's taking a statistics class this semester that's pretty hard, maybe I'll wait until he's done so that he's not distracted." She pushes herself up off the floor, leaving the safety of Jordan's arms behind, and starts boxing up the used tests - trying to think of a way to dispose of them without her mother seeing. 

The last thing that she needs right now is Kate Virtue finding out that her youngest child might be knocked up. The very scenario she'd actively tried to prevent from happening. 

"Tes-sa," Jordan drawls, "You think you can keep this a secret for four months? From  _Scott_ of all people?" 

Honestly, no. The only secret that she's ever tried to keep from him was having a crush on him in 2004, and look how that turned out. 

"I have no idea, Jo. It's not like I have any experience to go off of here. I don't know what the right thing to do is." 

"Well, you don't have to figure it out right this second I guess. You can wait and see the doctor first. But don't keep it from him for too long. He's a smart guy - he'll know something's up and the longer you wait the more hurt he'll be that you didn't tell him." 

Jordan stands up and takes the boxes from Tessa with a stern look, and Tessa flicks her head in a half-nod and shrugs. 

"I'll tell him after I see Dr. Lovett, if there's anything to tell." 

Probably. She'll probably tell him. If his math class is going well and he seems to be in a good mood and Mr. Miller's pigs are flying. 

"Good. I'm going to go throw these in the dumpster down the hall, unless you want to keep one?" Jordan asks, balancing the boxes in one arm so that she can open the door. 

"Ew. Why would I keep one?" Tessa scrunches up her nose in disgust, and Jordan holds up her free hand in defense.

"I don't know. Sometimes women do cute pregnancy reveals with them." 

"Oh. Yeah, no. Throw them all away." 

With any luck, there won't be a pregnancy reveal at all. Dr. Lovett will tell her it's all just messed up hormones from a late period and nothing to worry about. 

Nobody ever needs to know and nothing has to change. 

It's all going to be just fine. 

 

 


	16. February 14, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott tries to surprise Tessa, and gets his own surprise in return. 
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Warning: brief discussion of abortion

**you're keepin' secrets on your pillow**

 

**_February 14, 2007_ **

**_London/Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

Let it be known that statistics is officially a son of a bitch. 

Scott has always considered himself a bit of a whiz at math . He sailed through all his classes in grade school with an ease that made his friends jealous - he was that annoying kid who never seemed to study but always got the right answers - and he genuinely enjoyed the subject.

But statistics is a different beast altogether.

It’s a Goliath, and Scott feels like a pretty inadequate David.

He’s been working on this one assignment all afternoon – the view from his dorm room window transitioning from bright noontime sunshine to a dreary, overcast late afternoon as he stays planted in the same hard chair, suffering. Trying desperately to calculate probabilities and standard deviations until his brain feels like its oozing out of his ears.

He needs something else to do before he explodes into a disgusting spray of brain matter across the ugly beige walls of the bedroom – which would be a nasty surprise for Eric to find when he comes home from his date.

Scott’s eyes drift of their own accord to the selfie taped to the wall of him and Tess at the cabin last August, and the juxtaposition of Tessa’s golden smile with the grey world outside of his window makes him sigh with longing. For her smile, her laughter, her jokes, her body. He misses it all. 

They’d agreed over the Christmas break not to celebrate Valentine’s Day, but he hasn’t heard from her in a few weeks (it's the longest they've ever gone without seeing each other) and he just really fucking  _misses_ his girlfriend.

School has been hard for both of them this semester, harder than expected, so calls have gone unanswered and emails have been all too short over the last few weeks, but he's not too worried about it. Tessa has always been a determined student, it's one of the many things that he loves about her, so a little silence between them right now isn't a big deal. 

 

But, well, all that being said, it IS Valentine's Day. And although Scott respects her desire to graduate at the top of her class, he's starting to see bell curves on the back of his eyelids every time that he closes his eyes, and he could really use a break.

What could be a better distraction than a surprise visit home for the most romantic holiday of the year?

Scott slides his chair away from the desk and scoops his keys out of the bowl in the kitchen – shrugging on his coat and whistling a slightly off-key rendition of Rihanna’s _Umbrella_. It's not his usual taste in music, but the damn song has been everywhere since its release and somehow the lyrics have implanted in his brain without his permission. 

Which is why it's fitting, then, that the minute he turns the ignition on in his truck that's the song blasting from his speakers on station 103.1. 

He reaches for the dial, intending to switch over to 92.7 for his preferred country music, but the goddamn catchy beat draws him in before he has a chance. Sighing dramatically for nobody's benefit but his own, Scott starts singing along: 

_You can run into my arms_  
It's okay, don't be alarmed  
(Come into me)  
(There's no distance in between our love)  
So I'm gonna let the rain pour  
I'll be all you need and more

Tessa running into his arms would be nice, he thinks, like something out of a romcom or a cheesy sepia-toned music video. He can’t wait to see the look on her face when he surprises her. Maybe he’ll pick up some roses on the way to complete the 'romantic reunion' aesthetic. Tessa always did like fresh flowers, and he hasn’t brought her nearly enough bouquets lately.

He spends the entire drive running through increasingly romantic scenarios where Tessa throws herself at him and smothers his face with kisses, and he can't stop grinning at the prospect. 

 

The drive to Ilderton passes quickly and soon he's pulling into the parking lot of Floral Temptations, where he's disappointed to discover that all of the roses are gone ("What did you expect?" The florist asks rhetorically, "It's Valentine's Day"). Instead he buys three white peonies and hopes that Tessa won't mind the unconventional choice. 

 

Scott pulls up to the familiar grey house, a little smile curling at the corner of his lips at the sight of it. The upstairs window is slightly propped open, despite the February chill, and Scott’s almost tempted to climb up the tree and in through the window like old times. The light’s on, so he knows Tessa is somewhere in there, but now that he’s nineteen climbing through the window isn’t just impractical, it’s unsafe. He’s still not sure how he made it up there so many times without breaking his neck, and can only attribute it to his scrawny frame and youthful determination.

Deciding on the far more practical option, Scott walks up the steps and across the recently rock-salted porch (a winter staple to prevent the ground from freezing and turning into deadly sheets of ice), and rings the doorbell – holding the flowers in front of himself with a mixture of pride and anticipation.

The door opens, yellow light spilling out over the frosty porch, framing Tessa's body, and Scott looks up to find her unexpectedly not smiling.

She's frowning.

In fact, she looks positively ill.

Her roots have grown in and the bright red shade of her hair has started to fade back into brown, there are circles under her eyes, and she looks like she’s lost weight.

Has she been sick? His mom had told him that Norovirus had been going around town, maybe she got it too. Maybe he'll be spending his night playing nurse instead of lover. 

Refusing to be put off by her not-exactly-welcoming reaction, Scott keeps the smile plastered to his face, “Surprise! Happy Valentine’s Day, T!”

She visibly shakes herself out of whatever deep thoughts she'd been thinking and tries (and fails) to smile at him, “Oh, uh… thank you. I wasn’t expecting you.”

His smile falls slightly, warping into more of a grimace, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course! Yes!” She rushes to say, reaching out for him for a second, then drawing her hand back hastily as if she's not sure whether or not she should be touching him, “I just would have dressed nicer if I’d known that you were coming.”

Tessa tugs awkwardly at her oversized Leafs hoodie, which he’s pretty sure is the same one that he ‘lost’ last Fall, and folds her arms awkwardly over her stomach for a second before dropping them to her sides.

It’s kind of a weird thing for her to say, considering how long they’ve known each other. It’s not like he’s some new boyfriend that she needs to impress, but maybe she’s feeling like she needs to put in extra effort since they haven’t seen each other in over a month, and so Scott moves quickly to reassure her.

Giving her a lopsided smile, he hands her the flowers and kisses her on the cheek as he walks through the door.

“You never have to dress up for me, kiddo. And I definitely have no complaints about you wearing that.” He winks, and she gives him a small smile before turning and heading towards the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

“Nobody else home?” He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around the quiet room. The clock ticks loudly on the wall and through the doorway into the den he can see  _Funny Face_ paused on the TV. Clearly she'd been having a night in. 

“No. Just me. My dad took my mom out to dinner at Garlic’s down in London.” Tessa explains, fiddling with the peonies so that they’re arranged exactly how she likes them.

“Awesome! We should go get dinner. I’m thinking For Pizza’s Sake? I could absolutely devour a meat lover’s pizza right now.”

He grins at her, but Tessa doesn’t look at him – instead choosing to keep a laser-like focus on the flowers in front of her.

“Do you have time for that?” She asks tentatively, and something about the tone of her voice rubs him the wrong way.

Scoffing, he replies, “Of course I do. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” Tessa whispers so quietly that he barely hears her, and Scott blows out a puff of air before walking over to circle his arms around her shoulders from behind and hold her close. Something's clearly bothering her, she's as stiff as a board, but he firmly believes that there's nothing that a good hug can't make better. 

“We can stay in if you want, I just thought it might be nice to celebrate since it’s been a while since we’ve spent time together. I've missed you, kiddo.” He brushes his nose along the side of her neck, kissing underneath her ear, and she sighs - some of the tightness in her muscles dissipating. 

She hums in agreement and reaches up to cover his hands with her own, “No, you’re right. I've missed you too. Let’s go out.”

“Are you sure?”

"Yeah. Pizza sounds great.”

He waits while she changes into a fitted maroon sweater and swaps her sweatpants for jeans, looking over the family photos on the mantel and smiling at the new one of Tessa, Jordan, and Kate in downtown Toronto. She hasn't told him much about the trip, but he figures she must have had fun - even if her smile doesn't seem to quite reach her eyes in the picture.

"You ready to go, T?" Scott sets the frame back down, not noticing the way Tessa flinches when she realizes what picture he's holding, and pulls his coat back on. 

"Yep. I'm ready." 

For some reason, she doesn't sound ready at all.

 

Scott watches her closely as she picks at her Caesar salad and sips her Canada Dry – a weird choice considering he knows that she doesn’t really care for the taste of ginger. Something is definitely wrong. Tessa loves the pizza at this place – regularly raves about the stuffed crust – yet she’d declined to order anything other than the salad.

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes and when she laughs at his jokes it sounds almost… forced. And she’s not making any eye contact with him – which is impressive considering the fact that they’re sitting across from each other (instead of side-by-side, like they always have before).

“Tess,” He says hesitantly while they wait for the check, watching her nibble at her thumb nail – a habit he hasn’t seen her give into in years.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

She shoves her hand underneath her thigh so fast it gives him whiplash, as if she knows that it had given away her anxiety, and fixes a smile on her face - looking at him for the first time since they left her house, “Noth-“

"Don’t say nothing,” He cuts in with a frown, “I can tell that something’s up. Have you been sick?”

They don't lie or keep secrets from each other, and yet Scott has the uncomfortable niggling sensation in the back of his head that there's something that she isn't telling him. Something important. 

Her face shifts and she looks… guilty. Which only makes him more intrigued.

“It’s just an upset stomach.”

That can’t be the whole story. It’s too simple and doesn’t warrant this kind of behavior. “Why wouldn’t you just say that from the beginning then? I told you we could have stayed home.”

“It’s fine. It’s not so bad right now.” She replies, taking another sip of her ginger ale and stares at the brown ring stained forever into the plastic table-top from someone's coffee long ago. One mistake, the consequences of which are clearly incredibly long-lasting, and suddenly Scott understands perfectly why the Virtues always insist on using coasters. 

“Well, do you think that you could handle some ice skating? Because it’s couple’s night at the rink and I wanted to take you, but not if you’re feeling sick.”

Tessa scratches mindlessly at her stomach for a minute, pondering the idea, before finally replying, "Um… sure. I can probably handle that.”

 

The rink is packed full with couples of all ages skating circles under the red and pink lights - the result of special filters that his mom puts up every February - and paper hearts and streamers line the walls. 

"It looks like Cupid threw up in here." Tessa comments, her mouth twitching in a little smile, and Scott chuckles.

"I know it's cheesy, but you know how my mom gets about holidays. She loves putting up decorations from all the kids." 

Scott leads her over to the skate rental and grabs two pairs, not bothering to wait for the attendee to help, and grins when he takes her hand and they step onto the ice together. It feels right - as natural as breathing - and he relaxes for the first time since she opened the door. 

The radio plays through various famous love songs and Scott intertwines his fingers with Tessa's, his chest puffing out a little with pride as they blend in with all the other happy couples. The prettiest girl in the whole world is here tonight holding his hand - this is much better than statistics homework, and he feels truly happy.  

Happy, that is, until a new couple steps onto the ice in front of them with their baby (who couldn't be more than a year old), laughing and beaming, and Tessa trips on her toe-pick. 

"Whoa, T, are you alright!?" Scott's arms fly out to catch her, keeping her upright, and Tessa holds onto his forearms for a moment before she regains her balance. 

"Yeah, just wasn't expecting that. I'm fine." Her eyes slide over to the couple and she winces. 

“Okay, we need to talk.” They’ve been skating around for a while now and she hasn’t said a single word, and she's inexplicably looking at the infant like it's the spawn of Satan - it’s freaking Scott out.

“What? Why!?” Tessa practically cries out, earning a few strange looks from the couples swerving around them to avoid a collision. They really need to get moving before disaster strikes or they get yelled at.

“Because. Whatever it is that's upsetting you, it’s more than you having the flu, and we need to talk about it.” He tightens his hold on her hand so that she can’t pull it free and run away and begins to lead her towards the door in the boards and off the ice.

Above them Frank Sinatra croons, _L is for the way you look at me_ , and Scott can't help but let out a humorless chuckle. The way Tessa's looking at him right now is more along the lines of dread than love. 

“No, Scott, come on. Let’s just keep skating. I’ll race you.” She pulls his hand back towards the rink, but Scott resists - he’s determined to have this conversation here and now. Whatever it is that she’s hiding, it needs to come out in the open so that they can work through it and Scott can sleep peacefully tonight.

“We’ll be back in a sec,” He says to the kid at the skate rental counter, handing over their skates and telling him that they don’t need their shoes quite yet, before taking Tessa’s hand and leading her across the room in their socks. He shuts the door to his mother’s office behind them and gestures for her to take a seat.

“Sit.” He orders when she doesn't move at first, and she obeys – dropping down into one of the hard wooden chairs across from the big oak desk his dad built for his mom a long time ago.

"Okay. Now, tell me what’s really going on. We've hardly talked in the last few weeks, you said no to pizza, and when did you start drinking ginger ale? There's something you aren't telling me.”

To his shock and dismay, Tessa starts crying – full bodied sobs that he’s never, ever seen from her before.

_She’s going to break up with me_ , Scott thinks suddenly, _she’s going to break my heart and I’ll die right here in this office, surrounded by baby pictures of me and my brothers and a half-empty bowl of Werthers caramels_.

“Tess… are you,” He swallows around the lump in his throat, the words choking him as they leave his mouth, “Are you breaking up with me?”

Her eyes shoot up to meet his in surprise, bright emeralds highlighted by the tears clinging stubbornly to her eyelashes.

“No!”

Relief sweeps through him like a tidal wave and his shoulders sag as he falls into the chair next to her, “Then what is it?”

“It’s worse than that.” She replies in a small voice, tugging balls of fluff from her sweater and rolling them between her fingers. Tears still flow in steady streams down her cheeks, despite her constantly wiping them away, and Scott grabs the tissue box off the desk and hands it to her. 

He honestly cannot think of a single thing that could be worse than her dumping him. Unless she has, like, cancer or something.

That thought makes him shoot up straight in his seat, his stomach dropping to the floor, "Oh my God, T, are you dying!?”

“No!” Tessa repeats herself, her hands clenching into such tight fists that he can see her knuckles turning white.

Scott is at a complete loss. If she isn't ending the relationship, and she isn't seriously ill, then what could possibly be making her act so weird?

“Then _what is it!?_ ” He demands, throwing his hands out in confusion.

“I’m pregnant!” She practically shouts, then claps both hands over her mouth like she’s just opened Pandora’s Box and let out something awful.

Scott doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at her. At her wide, terrified eyes and chipped nail polish and pale face. 

_Pregnant? Pregnant like… like having a baby? His baby? He and Tessa are…_

“How?” He asks, stunned.

“The usual way.” She replies snarkily, wiping away her tears (which seem to be stopping now that she's confessed her secret) with her sleeve and shoving her hands under her arms - curling in on herself.

“But when? We’ve always-“

“Not on New Year’s Eve.” She states with an odd sense of finality, and Scott gulps. That night is hazy and he doesn't remember much about the sex they had in his truck - only that it was awesome and Chiddy was mad at them for it. 

But apparently, it was also stupid. 

“Oh.”

He goes quiet, slumping backwards into the chair and running his hand back and forth through his hair. 

Pregnant. 

_Pregnant._

“Say something, please," Tessa pleads with him, leaning forward slightly and looking like a lost little girl again. 

“Are you sure that you are-?” He can't bring himself to say it out loud, because somehow that would make it even more real. And if the churning in his gut and painful tightness in his lung is any indication, it's already real enough.

“Yes,” She nods slowly, “I took ten tests and saw my OBGYN. I’m almost nine weeks along.”

_Nine weeks? But..._ “How long have you known?”

“Since I went to Toronto." Tessa doesn't look at him while she answers the question, like she already knows he's not going to like it, "Jordan bought the tests for me there.”

“Tessa that was over three weeks ago!" He slides to the front of his seat, barely maintaining balance on the edge of the hard cushion, "When were you going to tell me!?”

She looks guilty and stares holes in the carpet, pursing her lips together and refusing to speak.

An ugly realization dawns in his mind and all at once he stands up - unable to remain seated for this conversation. 

“ _Were_ you going to tell me at all?”

“Yes!” She sounds adamant, but it takes her a minute to answer and that only makes Scott feel more sick to his stomach. Not only is she pregnant, but she wasn't even planning on  _telling_ him. 

“When!?”

“I don’t know!”

Scott snorts, “An invitation to the baby shower? A call from the hospital? The kid’s first birthday?”

“Of course not! I was trying to find the right moment.” Tessa shoots up out of her seat as well, standing directly in front of him and throwing her hands out in supplication - desperate for him to understand. 

“Seriously? The right moment was the second you suspected that something was wrong!”

“Well you’ve been so stressed about statistics and I’ve been busy trying to _graduate_ and I just-"

"Don't try to pin this on my class schedule. You should have come to me and we could have taken the tests together." 

"I'm not  _pinning_ it on you! I just didn't want to stress you out more if it was only a late period." 

"Tessa," Scott replies slowly, exasperated, and she glares at him. 

"Well it seemed like a good reason at the time! God, Scott! I’m just," Her voice goes quiet and small as the fight goes out of her, "I'm so scared.”

The sight of her, looking so vulnerable, makes his anger dissolve and he moves quickly to her side, pulling her into a tight hug - tucking her head under his chin as she buries her nose in his chest.

“I'm scared too, but it’s going to be okay, kiddo.” 

“How can it be okay? There is a _thing_ growing inside me. A thing that's going to need to be fed and cared for and raised to adulthood. It’s awful.”

“It’s not a thing, it's a baby, and it's not awful. It’s just… unexpected, but we can handle it.”

“We can?” Her reply is muffled by his shirt, and he can feel the fabric turning wet from her quiet tears that seem to have returned.

“Yes.”

“I could…” Tessa pauses, going tense in his arms, and takes a deep breath before continuing, “I could get rid of it. Go to a clinic. I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”

Scott swallows and tries to keep his voice steady as he replies, “You could, and I would support you if that’s what you wanted.”

She buries her face further into his neck, “What do _you_ want?”

“I want…”

What does he want? He knows he wants kids, someday, but he hadn't planned on that day being NOW. Nineteen is pretty young to be starting a family, even if it is with the love of his life. Tessa could get an abortion and they could move on with their lives as planned, but...

“I want to move in together." The words come out rushed, surprising him as much as they surprise her, "Now, not in the fall like we originally planned. And I want to marry you.”

“ _What!?_  " Tessa steps backwards, out of his arms, her face a blend of smeared mascara and something he'd vaguely call _horror_ , "Married? Scott, we’re way too young for that.”

“We’re going to have a baby, Tess. A child. I know it’s early – way, way early – but now that it’s happening, I want it. I want to be a family with you.”

“You do?” She takes a tentative step towards him again, and Scott closes the distance impatiently and brings her back into the safety of his arms - slowly caressing her soft, silky hair and dropping a kiss to her forehead. 

“Yes. Tessa Virtue, I love you. I have _always_ loved you. And I promise that I will continue to love you, and this baby, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Are you sure about this?” She doesn't sound sure at all, and his more realistic (or cynical, depending on the day) mental voice says,  _no - I'm not sure. This could be a disastrous idea._

“One hundred percent.” He says instead, determined to be strong for her. 

“I- I guess... Yes.” She says it so quietly and stuttered that Scott has to ask for clarification, lest he misunderstand and make the wrong next move. 

“Was that a yes?”

“Yes.” She replies more confidently, and he kisses her then - soft and cautious - feeling immensely relieved when she kisses him back.

“Hang on.” He digs a coin out of his wallet and goes over to the little toy vending machine his mom keeps in the corner for the littlest kids, putting the coin in the slot and cranking the handle until a plastic ball falls out.

Scott pops it open and pulls out the cheap ring inside – the kind with the split band so that it can be sized as needed – and smiles at the little green plastic gemstone in the center of it that reminds him of her eyes.

“Here. Just until I can get something real.” He says, wondering what he could possibly afford – maybe a simple band with an engraving? There definitely aren't any overly complicated diamond designs in their future, but he has a feeling Tessa wouldn't want that kind of ring anyway.

He takes her left hand and slides the ring into place, pinching the sides so that it fits correctly.

“Thank you.” She whispers, staring at the ring like it's something alien and rubbing her fingers together to get used to the way that it feels. 

“You’re welcome.” Scott replies quietly, pulling her hand up so that he can kiss it, and Tessa finally,  _finally_ , smiles at him. 

“Scott?”

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes fixed on her face, watching all the emotions playing across it (fear, excitement, love, anxiety), and wonders which one will win. 

"I love you, too," She punctuates the statement with a soft press of her lips to his jaw, and he swears he can physically feel his ribs loosening a little bit and letting him breathe deeply again, "Can we go back to my place now? I just really want to climb into bed and cuddle with you." 

"Of course, Tess. Let's go." 

 

Pregnant. Engaged. Moving in together.

Maybe if he was better at statistics he could have predicted the probability of that happening. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this a lot, but I was very tired when I wrote this - hopefully it isn't riddled with errors. Lol!


	17. March 10, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa and Scott move into the trailer, much to the chagrin of Kate. 
> 
> Rating: M

**don't you worry, there my honey**

 

 

**_March 10, 2007_ **

**_Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

“You don’t have to do this,” Her mom says from her spot in the doorway of Tessa’s bedroom, the pain flashing across her face like a bright neon sign – the kind that are so vibrantly fluorescent they hurt your eyes and force you to look away, “ _Please_ don’t do this.”

Tessa glances up from the cardboard box she’d been taping shut, one hand still holding the flaps down while the other maneuvers the giant roll of tape, and feels a fresh wave of guilt wash over her at the frown on her mother’s face. The same frown that’s been there ever since she and Scott sat their families down two weeks ago and told them about the pregnancy and their plan to move in together and get married.

“I have to,” Tessa replies quietly, but firmly, before looking back down at the box and finishing her task. Sealing up the last remnants of her life in that grey Victorian house that she’s called a home for the last seventeen (almost eighteen) years.

The bedroom is bare now, except for the bright bedding that still remains neatly arranged on the bed, and a few knickknacks and things that she won’t be taking with her to her new home. It’s unsettling, like driving past an abandoned house, and Tessa doesn’t like looking at it for very long.

“You _don’t_ have to. I know that things have been… tense the last few weeks. I know that we’ve been fighting a lot and I never should have yelled at you like I did, but Tessa, you need to be with your family. Now more than ever.”

Kate crosses the room and places a gentle hand on her shoulder and Tessa longs to give into it – to fall into her mother’s embrace and be treated like a child again, a child seeking some desperately needed comfort from her mommy – but she can’t. Those days are over. They ended the minute the plus sign appeared on the first test back in Toronto.

"Scott’s my family.” She says instead, tossing the roll of tape onto the bed and scanning the room one more time to make sure that there isn’t anything that she’s forgotten.

“He loves you, I know, but he’s not ready for this kind of commitment, honey. You’re both too young. He’s going to want to go to parties and drink with his college buddies, and you’ll be left home alone caring for a baby and watching your life pass you by.”

Tessa breathes out of her nose, screwing her eyes shut tight and trying hard not to lash out. It’s the same argument that they’ve been having for the past two weeks, and she really doesn’t want to rehash it all again.

“That’s not going to happen. _He_ proposed to _me_. He wants this.”

“He wants to do what he thinks is the right thing, and that’s commendable, but it isn’t what’s really going to be right in the long run. For either of you. Stay, Tessa. Stay home. I can care for the child while you’re in school and then in a few years, when you’re both older and more mature, if you still want to, you can revisit the idea of marriage.”

Tessa shrugs her mom’s hand away, forcing it to drop back down to Kate’s side, and folds her arms over her chest defiantly, “It won’t matter if we wait a week or a month or ten years, I’ll still be in love with Scott and he’ll still be in love with me.”

“Maybe that’s true,” Her mom nods, the lines around her eyes looking deeper than they ever have before, “But what happens if you both go to college and meet other people, or just simply grow up and find that you work better as friends?”

“Stop!” Tessa shakes her head vigorously, throwing up her hands as if to ward off an oncoming approach, even though Kate hasn’t moved, “This is happening now, Mom. I’ve made my choice.”

“I just want you to _think_ about this,” She pleads, reaching out for her, but Tessa steps backwards out of her reach.

“I have. Scott says we can make this work, and I trust him. He wants this.”

“Does he though? Does he _really_? Can you honestly say with complete certainty that he isn’t going to wake up one morning full of regret? Or that you won’t?”

Tessa stares at her sneakers, picking out all the marks they’ve gotten over the years – dirt from the fields around Ilderton, scuff marks from the cement floors at the arena, a red sharpie heart that Scott drew on them last summer – and tries not to pay any attention to the doubt creeping into her mind like a shadow.

_Maybe she has a point_ , she thinks quietly. The anxious voice inside her head, the loud, logical one that picks apart every decision, whispers into her ear – giving words to the feelings that she’s been trying to shove away and bury ever since Scott suggested this plan. _What if we do this and ten years from now we both wake up full of regret and sorrow?_

“I just want what’s best for you.” Her mom says softly, reaching out to pull Tessa towards her, and this time Tessa lets her – nearly crumbling the second her mother’s warm, safe, familiar arms start to embrace her.

_Maybe_...

Scott comes bounding into the room, disturbing the moment with his endless energy and enthusiasm, “Hey, T! Ready to go? I’ve got the truck parked out front ready for the last load. Charlie and I just finished getting the bed frame all set up and the mattress and couch inside the trailer.”

His voice fades into something cold and frosty as he takes in the sight before him, his wide smile twisting into a scowl, “Oh. Hi, Kate.”

“Hello,” Her mom replies just as coolly, moving slightly so that she stands partially in front of Tessa – as if to defend her from an approaching enemy.

Things have been bad between them ever since the pregnancy confession. Words had been thrown around like _selfish, terrible, manipulator, life-ruiner,_ and _idiotic teenage boy unable to control his hormones,_ and that, complete with Kate’s utter conviction that Scott is just another useless teenage boy who couldn’t keep it in his pants and who had destroyed Tessa’s happiness, meant whatever goodwill had been between them had been seemingly irreparably destroyed.

Needless to say, it had been an ugly and painful conversation that had resulted in a lot of yelling and tears.

Alma and Joe had been disappointed, but supportive, and had adamantly defended their son (and Tessa) and offered to help find them a home and jobs. Tessa’s father had walked into his office and didn’t come back out for a few hours, but when he finally did it was with a check in hand and a tight smile and a nod of understanding and support.

But Kate? Kate had instantly declared Scott Public Enemy Number One, and it doesn’t seem as if that will ever change if the expression on her face now is anything to go by.

“Are those the last of your boxes?” Scott asks, addressing Tessa again with a warmer voice meant just for her.

Stepping out from behind her mom, Tessa gives him a tight smile and nods, feeling almost as if she had betrayed him somehow by listening to her mom’s words earlier and accepting the hug, “Yep, that’s all of it.”

"Awesome. Let’s grab Tallulah and go, then.”

She watches as he lifts the boxes with ease, one stacked on top of the other, and heads out of the room – passing by Kate without a single word.

Tessa moves to follow after him, grabbing her coat from the peg on the wall and tugging it on, but she’s stopped in the doorway by her mom’s hand grabbing her elbow.

"Think about what I said, Tessa, please.”

Placing a hand on her mom’s shoulder for balance and leaning up on her tiptoes, Tessa kisses her cheek with a heavy sense of finality and says, “Bye, Mom, I'll see you later,” before following Scott out of the door.

 

 

“My mom got some stuff unpacked, but she had to head home to get some work done. She said to tell you hi and that we’re invited for Sunday dinner next week.” Scott says cheerfully as he fiddles with the dial on the car stereo, trying to find a station playing something that they’ll both like and settling on Top 40.

“That was nice of her,” Tessa runs her fingers through the strands of hair on the back of Tallulah’s neck – the dog happily resting its head on her lap as they drive across town. 

Her mom had originally offered to keep Tallulah, since Tessa and Scott's new place is so small, but she just wouldn't have felt right leaving the dog (and one of her best friends) behind. She's not sure Tallulah would ever forgive her if she did. 

“She also brought by a quilt that my Aunt Carol made for us. It’s a nice shade of grey. I think you’ll like it.” Scott continues, humming along to the Timbaland song currently coming out of the speakers. 

“I’m sure I will.” She agrees with a smile. On their budget, anything that's free is something she likes. 

It sounds kind of weird, though, Scott talking about bedding for  _them_ \- the two of them together. Like something from a strange daydream. His aunt made them a quilt. A quilt for their bed. The bed that they’ll be _sharing_.

She’s never shared a bed before. Not unless sleepovers or running scared into Jordan’s room when she was little and climbing in with her counts. It's never been anything permanent.  

_I wonder if I’ll like it. Does he hog the blankets? Will there be room for both of us? Will it drive him crazy when I get restless and can’t fall asleep?_

_Are there protocols for sharing a bed that I should know about?_

Fingers lace through hers where they rest on Tallulah and Scott squeezes her hand, “I can hear the wheels turning inside that pretty head of yours. Stop worrying. This is going to be great.”

“Who’s worried?” Tessa attempts to joke with a quick smile, even as she tightens her hand around his in a desperate effort to glean some of the certainty that seems to come to him so easily.

“We’re going to knock this cohabitating thing outta the park, kiddo, and when we get married we’re going to be the best at that too.”

He says it with an easy grin, but there’s something in his eyes that sets her on edge. Just a hint of nervousness that belies the confidence he’s been walking around with lately.

Maybe he isn’t so certain after all.

Maybe he has just as many doubts as she does.

She's not sure if that's reassuring or worrying. 

 

They pull up to the beige trailer that Tessa knows she’s going to have to start thinking of as home (instead of _that place_ , which is what she’s been calling it in her head ever since they signed the lease agreement), and Scott hops out of the car – retrieving her boxes and heading inside.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she slides out of the truck and follows him, Tallulah close at her heels, surprised to find Jordan and Charlie still working hard in the small space.

“Hey, Tutu!” Charlie calls out from behind the TV, holding up two cables and looking back and forth between them as if they’re the wires belonging to a time bomb and he has to decide which one to cut.

"Hey Charlie!" Tessa yells back, giggling at how confused he looks.

Taking pity on his brother, Scott heads over to help him before he fries the electricals by mistake, and Tessa veers the other direction to help Jordan in the kitchen.

“Hey. How was saying goodbye to the house?” Her sister asks, prying open another box of cheap plastic dishes and getting to work arranging them on the shelves.

They both know that she isn’t talking about the actual building.

“It went about as well as can be expected,” Tessa sighs, grabbing a bag of mismatched silverware that Alma had been planning to discard and had given to them instead.

Jordan's hand lands on hers for half a second as she says, “Hey, she’ll come around. It’ll just take some time. Once she sees how happy you guys are and that you can make it work, she’ll apologize.”

Tessa hums noncommittedly. It doesn’t seem likely, but then, Jordan’s always had the better relationship with their mother. Probably because she wasn’t scampering off all the time with a bunch of boys and getting into trouble. It also tends to mean that she views Kate through rose-colored glasses sometimes. 

“Speaking of,” Jordan begins, taking the nicer glasses from Tessa and putting them on the top shelf, “Not to say that I told you so, but…”

“What are you talking about?” Tessa eyes her sister with curiosity. If she’s about to say that she already talked to their mom and got an apology, Tessa might drop dead from shock.

"Scott.” Jordan states and Tessa's shoulders slump slightly, “I told you that it would be okay when you told him about the baby. He’s really stepped up.”

“Oh,” Tessa nods, “Yeah, he has.”

She looks over at where the man in question is currently re-positioning the couch with Charlie’s help, the TV cables forgotten on the floor for the time-being, and smiles softly. She can't fault Jordan there - he really has been wonderful over the last month, and it's done a lot to ease her fears (although not completely eradicate them). 

“Do you – do you think the wedding is a good idea?” She whispers the words to Jordan, not wanting either of the boys to overhear. Ever since the proposal she’s been dying to get her sister’s opinion on it, but there just hasn’t been an opportunity until now.

Jordan stops moving, the Leafs mug she’d been about to put on the shelf dangling lightly in her hand, “Why? You don’t?”

“Careful with that,” Tessa says instead of answering the question, pointing to the mug, “It’s Scott’s favorite.”

Her sister rolls her eyes and sets the mug down on the counter with over-exaggerated care, taking almost a full thirty seconds while eyeing Tessa sarcastically.

Once it’s completely safe, she backs away, “There, it's safe from evil Jordan.  _Now_ will you tell me why you’re doubting your decision?”

Tessa jabs Jordan in the ribs in retaliation for the teasing before opening her mouth, inhaling sharply before beginning to respond, “I don’t know. We’re both so young. I think we should try living together for a while first, but Scott’s pretty stuck on doing things the traditional way.”

“Hmm… Is that bad?” Jordan folds her arms as she leans her hip against the sink, her back facing the guys, and Tessa keeps a close eye on them to make sure that they can’t hear anything. Thankfully, they seem to have fallen into a deep discussion about the Blue Jays - becoming oblivious to everything else around them. 

"No. It’s not bad, it’s just… fast.”

“You could wait until the summer,” Jordan suggests with a shrug, “Have a longer engagement.”

“No way. If we’re doing this, I don’t want to be swollen up like a balloon in all the photos.”

The two girls laugh, catching the guys' attention, and Jordan pokes her in the stomach, “Good point!”

“Hey!” Scott shouts from across the room where he and Charlie are back at work investigating the TV, “Careful! There’s precious cargo in there!”

Charlie slugs him on the shoulder and the girls laugh harder.

“He’s going to be one of those super over-protective dads, isn’t he?” Jordan deadpans, and Tessa smiles.

“Yeah, I think he will.”

“Listen, Tess,” Her voice drops low again as she gets serious, and Tessa leans in closer to pay attention – eager for her sister’s advice, “I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through here, or how hard these big decisions are, but that idiot over there loves you. I don’t think marrying him could ever be a bad idea, even if it is fast.”

A long, heavy sigh of relief leaves Tessa’s body like a balloon deflating in one big gust, and Tessa grabs Jordan and pulls her in for a tight hug.

“Thanks, Jojo. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, sis. I love you.”

 

 

“Phew!” Scott drops down dramatically onto the couch beside her a few hours later, surveying their new kingdom with a mixture of exhaustion and pride – avoiding accidentally stepping on Tallulah where she sleeps at Tessa’s feet. “What a day!”

Tessa chuckles and spins her finger in the air, gesturing for him to twist around so that she can massage his shoulders, “I ordered a pizza. It should be here soon.”

“You’re a lifesaver, T, and that feels amazing.”

Scott melts into her touch almost the exact second that her hands touch him, a clear sign that he's even more tired than she thought, and Tessa puts in a little extra effort into easing the soreness in his muscles.

"Good. You worked hard today.”

A low groan escapes his chest as she digs in a particularly tight spot, trying to work out the knot in the muscle there.

“That feels so good, Tess. And you worked hard too. I feel like this should be the other way around.”

She leans forward and presses a light kiss to the top of his spine in an attempt to sooth the guilt she can hear in his voice. It's sweet how much he wants to take care of her these days, but she wants this to be an equal partnership.

“It’s alright. Let me take care of you right now.”

“At least let me do your feet. Here,” He reaches down, grabbing her by the ankles and pulling her legs around his waist from behind so that they rest in his lap, “That’s better.”

Scott’s hands start working on the soles of her feet and Tessa’s eyelids drop closed as she lets out a little whimper, her own hands stilling on his shoulders as she gets distracted by how good it feels.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good.”

He sounds incredibly pleased with himself, and that just won’t do, so Tessa pries her eyes open and gets back to work – determined to prove that she’s just as good at giving massages as he is.

It’s a competition that neither of them can really lose.

"Do you remember when I massaged your legs like this in study hall that one time?" Scott asks after a few minutes go by in comfortable silence, tilting his head so that she can do more of his neck. 

She lets out a little giggle at the memory, "Yes. You were trying to be nice and all I could think about was how much I wanted you." 

"Well, I was only partially trying to be nice." Scott confesses, sliding his hands up higher to work on her calves, "I also really wanted you and was trying to test your boundaries a little bit." 

"It worked. That fueled so many fantasies." 

"Oh yeah?" He sits up a little straighter, and Tessa swears if he were a dog his ears would be perking up right now, "What kind of fantasies." 

"Mostly of you moving your hands higher and higher and up under my skirt." Tessa admits, grinning into his shoulder blade when he stiffens underneath her at the revelation.

Scott turns around, pushing her backwards on the couch and following after her so that he's propped up over her, and Tessa smiles with a tongue-touched grin and winks at him. 

" _Tessa Virtue_. Such a dirty little mind." He smirks and shakes his head, then leans down to kiss the corner of her mouth - running his lips back and forth along her jawline. 

"You love it." Tessa tells him, breathless and holding onto his ribs to keep herself steady under the onslaught.

"Guilty as charged." 

He kisses her mouth then, letting his body fall onto hers so that they're pressed together practically from head to toe, and Tessa forgets what they were talking about as she focuses on giving as good as she gets - her body arching towards him of its own accord. 

"Too bad you're not wearing a skirt right now," Scott whispers into the crook of her neck, his hand running up the inside of her thigh and tracing the seam of her jeans, "It's going to make what I want to do a lot harder." 

"I think _harder_ in this context is good," Tessa smirks, cupping him over his jeans and grinning when he grinds into her hand. 

"Minx. You know what I meant." 

"Do you want me to go change? I think I have that skirt in one of my boxes." 

Scott's reply is lost in the sound of loud knocking on their front door, and they both look at each other in surprise before saying, "Pizza!" in unison - all thoughts of sex postponed at the prospect of food. 

 

An hour later, Tessa lies tucked comfortably in between the back of the couch and Scott’s side, an empty pizza box is propped open on the floor, and Jeopardy is playing on the TV (in Spanish for some reason, which Scott blames solely on Charlie).

Scott’s half asleep, exhausted from moving all day, and the steady rise and fall of his chest under her cheek is incredibly soothing and goes a long way to getting Tessa to follow after him.

It’s not exactly the wildest Saturday night they’ve ever had.

Suddenly, Tessa’s struck with the mental image of the two of them with grey hair doing this exact same thing sixty years from now, and she starts laughing.

“Whadisit?” Scott mumbles, blinking blearily as he tries to wake up, and the sight of him like that - his voice croaky like an old man - sets her off again.

“Nothing just,” She begins, snorting a little at the way he stretches and pops his back (not exactly helping her to stop picturing the geriatric version of him), “We’re so old.”

“What’d’ya mean, old?”

“Look at us. Two people on a Saturday night falling asleep on the couch while watching Jeopardy. You’d think we were seventy, not seventeen.”

“You _like_ Jeopardy.” Scott points out, waking up more fully now and shifting onto his side to face her better, draping his arm over her waist and keeping her trapped between him and the couch.

"I do. And Audrey Hepburn, and classic rock – it all just proves my point.” 

Over his shoulder the next episode starts, the opening jingle blasting out of the speakers, and a voice says,  _Esto es Jeopardy!  -_ setting off another round of giggles. 

“Just because we like staying in and watching old TV doesn’t make us ancient. Would an old granny have one of these?” Scott slips his hand under her shirt and tugs at her bellybutton ring, the one her OBGYN had informed her would have to come out once her stomach started expanding (yet another side effect of the pregnancy that Tessa’s trying to come to terms with), in an attempt to prove his point.

“If that old granny is me, then yes.” She replies, moving her own hand to scratch along his lower back and across his hip bone, skating upwards towards his ribs and dragging his shirt up higher as she goes.

"I’ll probably still think it’s hot then, too.” Scott sighs happily, undoing the button of her jeans and dragging the zipper down slowly. The sound of the teeth coming apart is almost obscene in the tiny quiet living room.

“You think we’ll still be having sex when we’re eighty?” Tessa slides her hand back down to cup his ass, pulling his hips towards her with clear intent. 

“Uh, duh.” He says it like it's totally obvious, and Tessa scrunches up her nose.

“Gross.” Having sex with someone whose teeth sit in a glass of water every night doesn't really appeal to her, even if that person is Scott.

“It’s not gross. It’s awesome. If we have sex every day until we’re eighty, that would be twenty-two thousand, two hundred and sixty five orgasms.” It only takes him a second to do the mental calculations, and not for the first time Tessa feels envious of his skills.

“Oh my god!” She throws her hands over her eyes, laughing a little even as her cheeks flood with heat, “You and your crazy math brain.”

" _Twenty-two thousand,_ Tess. We’d totally be sex gods at that point. We could write a book about it.”

Scott places his hands on her waist and rolls them so that she's on top, one of her legs tucked in between him and the couch cushions and the other falling to the floor. It's really not the most ergonomic location for them to be trying to do this. 

"I’m not writing a book with you about sex.” She states firmly, sitting up and pulling her shirt over her head and laughing at how quickly Scott undoes her bra. He's become an expert at that, she'll admit. 

“Tessa and Scott: Our journey from adolescent innocence, to sexual champions.” Scott says in a booming, announcer voice, moving to play with her nipples, “It sounds like a good title to me.”

"Soft," She reminds him with a whisper. Her breasts are so much more sensitive now, and can't handle his usual eager touch. He nods and lightens his strokes and Tessa's head falls backwards. 

Her voice comes out high-pitched and strained as she tries to continue the conversation, “You’re writing that on your own, buddy.”

“Are you going to at least help me work on the material?” Scott bucks up into her, his erection hitting her perfectly - even through the thick denim of both of their pants - and Tessa whimpers, grinding down onto him. 

“Is that a pick-up line? Because it sucked.”

He slides his fingers underneath the band of her underwear, grazing her clit as best he can at the awkward angle, but it's enough to feel good and she has to bite her bottom lip to stop from crying out. 

“Okay, how about – is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can totally see myself in your pants.”

“Stop! They're so bad.” She props herself up on his chest, moving her hips back and forth against his and chasing that high, and Scott's hands return to her breasts - creating delicious stimulation that has her close within seconds. 

“I’ve got to write a whole chapter on pick-up lines, T. It’s research! Did it hurt when-“

She surges down and plants her lips on his, shutting him up with a bruising kiss.

“See? It’s already working.” He winks at her as soon as she pulls away, and Tessa swats his shoulder. 

“Would you just shut up, take your pants off, and fuck me already?” She laughs, standing up and grabbing her jeans and underwear and tugging them down in one go - leaving them in a pile on the floor.

Scott's hands fly to his own pants and he works them down to his knees, but she barely gives him enough time to get them that far before she climbs back on top of him, “That’s chapter two: hottest ways to ask someone to sleep with you. Number one: Tessa Virtue asking you to fuck her.”

"If you don’t stop working on your draft and get busy, you won’t have any material to work with at all.” She warns, taking him in hand and guiding him to her entrance - teasing him by dragging just the tip along her folds. 

His hands land on her hips, helping to guide her movements, and he mutters, “… You make a compelling argument.” 

His eyes are fixed on where they're about to be joined, clearly too distracted to continue joking about the book he wants to write, and Tessa mentally crows in triumph. Goal achieved. 

“Here, or the bedroom?" She asks, sinking down an inch and loving the way his eyelashes flutter closed, "This couch isn’t exactly comfortable.” 

“Ungh..." Is about all he can manage for a second, before he grits his teeth and says, "Don’t knock this couch. I think it’s great, and it’s important that we christen it.”

“Why? Are you planning on christening _every_ surface?” She sinks down another inch, the part of her that's slowly started to become more exploratory in their sex life waking up and encouraging this sweet torture. 

“ _Yes_." 

"Is that going to be a chapter in the book?" Another inch and Tessa contracts her internal muscles on purpose, pleased by the way Scott moans in response.

"Fuck, Tess, I'll write whatever you want me to, just please  _move."_

With a joyous laugh, she takes pity on him and sinks down until he's completely inside of her - until they're both moaning in unison at being joined in this most basic way. It helps that since she's already pregnant, they can dispense with worrying about condoms (helps their budget, and their spontaneity), and the feeling of being connected like this without any barriers is wonderful. 

Using his chest for support, she lifts off him slowly before dropping back down, relishing the delicious drag against her inner walls - but it only lasts for a few moments before Scott takes over. 

Gripping her waist tight enough to bruise he manipulates her body above his, thrusting into her from below, and Tessa succumbs willingly. Happy to let him take control and drive them both over the edge. 

When she collapses onto his chest a little while later, sweaty and sated, she's already halfway to dreamland (she gets tired so easily these days), but she isn't far enough gone to miss Scott's next words. 

“Twenty-two thousand, two hundred and sixty four left to go," He murmurs, voice slow and lazy like molasses, and their quiet laughter echoes around the room as they doze off in each other's arms. 

 


	18. April 15, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the wedding bells ring!
> 
> Rating: G/T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how much this story has gotten away from me. It's so much longer than I ever anticipated (when is that NOT my problem? lol). Thank you all so much for sticking with it and continuing to read and support it. <3
> 
> If I could send you all cookies, I would.

** i wanna be your man (forever) **

****

**_April 15, 2007_ **

**_Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

Scott stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, his hands gripping the edge of the sink tight enough to turn all of his knuckles white. The light above the mirror does nothing to help him recognize the face looking back at him - pale, slightly sweaty, and tinged a faint shade of green. 

He feels equal parts skittish and tense, which can probably be partially blamed on how little sleep he got the previous night. Tossing and turning and plagued by the persistent nightmare of accidentally showing up to his wedding with no pants on. Scott's had to pat his thighs four times already throughout the morning to make sure the black suit pants are there - all zipped and buttoned properly.

He’d slept at his parent’s house in his old bedroom - tangled up in the Leafs sheets that, if he's being honest, he kind of misses - because Tessa had insisted that they play by the book and honor the tradition of not seeing each other before the wedding ("It's bad luck, Scott! We can't risk it!"). Instead of giving him the chance to get some extra sleep, however, it had only served to increase how childish and unprepared he feels today. Like an imposter. A kid putting on his father’s suit and shoes and marching around the house playing pretend at being an adult.

The face in the mirror looks so young this morning (something he'd never admit to out loud) – the white button down dress shirt washing out his skin tone and making him look ghostly white in contrast to his dark hair. It’s not exactly the look he was hoping for (see: James Bond), but he supposes it’s better than wearing his best plaid shirt and jeans. Tessa would probably kill him if he ditched the suit and showed up in his favorite casual clothes instead.

If only they could do this at the end of the summer when he's got a nice tan going on, but then they'd have to worry about Tessa's water breaking or something, and that would probably spoil the ceremony. 

It’s a blessing, really, that she isn’t there to see him like this – looking like he might vomit any second and tugging uselessly at his shirt collar where it threatens to choke him. Struggling to fasten the suspenders on the waistband of his pants. 

It's embarrassing just how much his hands are shaking. 

He’s so nervous. Terrified, really. He hasn’t been thinking about the wedding much in the past two months – too worried about passing statistics and remembering to leave the toilet seat down for Tess and reading _The Expectant Father_ between classes. She had been distracted as well by her own grades and morning sickness and fighting with Chiddy for the honor of valedictorian at their graduation. The result of all that being that they had both let his mom handle most of the details of the big event and pretty much pushed it to the back of their minds.

Now that it’s here though, he can feel his heartbeat thundering like a herd of horses and the bile rising in his throat.

It’s not that he regrets proposing or doesn’t want to marry Tessa. He knows that it’s the right choice – the only choice – but he’s scared shitless that he’s going to mess this up. That he won’t be good enough – a good husband or a good father. That he's too young and impulsive and prone to emotional outbursts to handle taking care of a family. 

Just last week he’d had to ask his father to explain how to file taxes and accidentally left a red shirt in with his load of white laundry. He's never even changed a flat tire, for fuck's sake. How can he expect himself to be ready to take such an adult step like _marriage_ and not fail? To take care of Tessa and their child the way they deserve and not disappoint them both completely?

If it were anyone else, he couldn’t do it. He wouldn't even bother to try and pretend that he could handle it. But this is  _Tessa,_ and he has to try and do it for her.

“Scott, you in there?” Danny’s voice carries through the door, accompanied by the impatient knocking that Scott’s come to expect from his brothers. One bathroom and three boys meant for a lot of yelling and arguing and fighting for space growing up. There's still a long crack in the corner of the mirror from when Charlie threw a shampoo bottle at Danny for insinuating something about his dick that Scott had been too young to understand at the time.

“Yeah. Just a sec.”

“Charlie and I want to talk to you.”

Dread floods his stomach, threatening to make him gag. Whatever that means, it can’t be good. Scott imagines them sitting him down and threatening him with bodily harm if he ever hurts Tess – something he’s already had to endure from her brothers Kevin and Casey (a cringeworthy experience for all involved) – and he’s tempted to hide out in the bathroom until it’s time to go to the church.

“Come on! We don’t have much time.” Danny presses, and Scott sighs – splashing his face with some cold water and patting it dry with a towel before opening the door to find his two older brothers waiting for him, already dressed up in their suits. Hair combed and ready to go. Their mom had even managed to convince Charlie to shave the mustache (if it could be called that) he'd spent the last three months working on growing. 

"What’s up?”

“Look, Scottie, Charlie and I think we should probably talk to you about this whole marriage thing.” Danny says solemnly, nodding in sync with his younger brother who adds, “And give you some advice.”

Scott snorts loudly and shrugs on his suit coat, knocking Danny’s hand away as he tries to straighten his tie for him, “Danny, you’ve been single for over a year, and Charlie, your girlfriend just dumped you two weeks ago. What advice could either of you possibly give me?”

“This isn’t about your relationship, nimrod,” Charlie swats the back of his head, earning a glare from Scott as he tries to get his ruffled hair smoothed back into place, “This is about you.”

“We know you, Scott. You tend to start imagining all the ways things can go wrong before they have a chance to go right, but you can do this. You and Tess. And we both feel that it's important for you to know that we think you can do this.” Danny says, no hint of a teasing smile or mischief in his eyes. He's dead serious. 

Scott’s mouth drops open in surprise. They’re brothers (womb to tomb, birth to earth, as _West Side Story_ would say), which means they generally don’t give each other straightforward encouragement. Most signs of affection come in the form of wet-willies, noogies, and endless teasing. Which makes this kind of outright support hit him harder than he expected.

It eases some of the knots in his stomach and he takes the first deep breath he's been able to all morning.  

“You and Tutu are going to be fine, and you’ll be great parents.” Charlie nods, seconded by Danny, and Scott ducks his head, fiddling with the end of his tie and not putting up a fight when Danny reaches out again and fixes it for him.

“You guys really think so?”

“Absolutely.” The speak in unison, sounding way more confident than Scott feels, and it helps bolster him. If his brothers think he can do this, despite his lack of tax knowledge or mechanical expertise, then maybe he really can after-all. 

“If anyone can make it work, it’s you and Tutu,” Danny adds with a grin, “You guys have been attached at the hip since before the Flood. Sometimes it makes me want my own Tessa.” He winks, and Scott laughs - remembering the suggestion he'd given his brother a few years ago when Tess had had a crush on him.

Impulsively, Scott throws his arms around his brothers in a tight hug reminiscent of the sports huddles they used to do all the time as boys before games in the backyard, earning some heavy slaps on the back in return.

"So, you ready to head to the church?” Charlie asks, pretending to punch him in the ribs, and Scott takes another deep breath before nodding. 

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

 

\-------

 

The church isn't very big or elaborate, just a simple white interior with wooden pews, but it's the church the Moirs have attended semi-regularly for years now and Scott wouldn't feel right getting married anywhere else - even if the rather conservative minister had balked a little at the idea of having a 'shotgun' wedding in his chapel.

Scott stands dutifully at the front of the church as the music plays and they wait for the real procession to begin, trying not to fidget too much and give away just how nervous he is to the entire audience. It’s mostly just the Moir and Virtue families, but still – he wants to appear calm, cool, and collected. Again, trying to go for the James Bond aesthetic - not 'sweaty awkward teenage boy in love with his best friend, but probably in way over his head' look.  

Eric stands next to him, grinning from ear to ear in his fitted tux and puffing out his chest a little with obvious pride at being the best man. He and Chiddy had argued back and forth about it until Tessa had stepped in and asked Chiddy to be her Man of Honor. Neither she nor Scott had felt right having both of their best friends stand with the groom during the ceremony (it would seem like picking sides), so Tessa had killed two birds with one stone by asking him to be on her side instead.

Scott had suggested getting him a pink dress to match Jordan's, but Chiddy hadn't been such a fan of that idea (despite Tessa agreeing with a wink that it would be a gorgeous color on him). He'd also turned down the chance to walk in front of her holding a bouquet, leaving that particular honor to Jordan as well.

He stands in place now, giving Scott what he must think is a subtle two thumbs up every time he glances his way. It's awkward and juvenile, but it also helps to keep him somewhat calm.   

Scott can't help but chuckle quietly at the absurdity of it all, clamping his hands into tight fists to contain the shaking. If he closes his eyes he can almost pretend the four of them are kids again playing some sort of make-believe game.          

The organist starts playing the wedding march and Scott opens his eyes in time to see Kate stand up, signaling to the audience that they should all stand too, and he can’t resist turning around to watch. Technically, according to the protocol sheet his mom had given him and Tessa last week, he’s supposed to stay facing forward – eyes on the minister – but it’s his wedding and he’ll be damned if he misses the chance to watch Tessa walk down the aisle in her wedding dress.

Jordan proceeds gracefully down the aisle first, looking very pretty in her pale pink dress - she'll make a beautiful bride herself someday - but it’s the woman in white behind her that Scott can’t stop staring at.

Tessa is radiant.

He can see the nerves and anxiety reflected in her gorgeous green eyes, even from a distance, but it hasn’t dimmed her smile. She’s beautiful. Like some sort of Audrey Hepburn movie come to life, but _better_. And the way that she’s looking at him melts his insides like butter.

Her feet trip over themselves as she nearly starts running towards him, but she recovers quickly and readjusts her pace to match her father's slow and steady gait, and Scott has to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He feels the same way - wanting her by his side as soon as possible. 

His hands are still shaking and his shoulders still feel heavy under the weight of responsibility for what they’re about to do – the life they’re about to begin together – but his conviction swells and makes him stand up a little straighter.

This is Tessa. His best friend, his first kiss, the mother of his future child, and his soulmate. He believes that with all of his heart. Marrying her could never be a mistake. They belong together, side by side. Like they've always been.

When she reaches him and her father places her hand in his, it’s like a piece of his heart (or, more realistically, the entirety of it) has come home, and he’s certain that the megawatt smile he gives her could power an entire continent.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here, in the presence of God and of this company, that Scott and Tessa may be united in holy matrimony. We are here to celebrate and share in the glorious act that God is about to perform – the act by which He converts their love for one another into the holy and sacred estate of marriage-“

The minister drones on in his slightly nasally voice about God and sanctity and the purpose of marriage, and Scott supposes that some part of him should probably pay attention, but he’s too busy cataloguing everything about Tessa while she does the same to him in return. 

He counts the freckles on her face, memorizes the way the sunbeam coming in through the stained glass window above them lights up her eyes, picks out the lingering red streaks in her brown hair that flicker like mahogany flames, observes how the neckline of the dress highlights her shoulders and the dips above her collarbones. 

_How did I get so lucky?_

“Scott,” The minister says firmly, drawing his attention back to the task at hand, “Are you ready to enter into this marriage with Tessa, believing that the love you share and your faith in each other will endure all things?”

“I am.” Scott replies, enunciating the two words clearly and slowly, his light brown eyes never leaving Tessa’s green ones. He's scared as hell, but he's never once doubted his love for her. Not since he watched a determined seven year old girl hold the line in a game of Red Rover, winning against all odds. It grew inside of his heart as his body grew on the outside, and it's as much a part of him as his Moir nose is.

"Tessa, are you ready to enter into this marriage with Scott, believing the love you share and your faith in each other will endure all things?”

She licks her lips and her fingers reflexively tighten around his as she hesitates for a brief moment, “I am.”

“Scott, do you take Tessa to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to love her, to honor and cherish her, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and to be to her in all things a good and faithful husband as long as you both shall live?”

_Promise to love her? To cherish her?_

_Easy_.

“I do.”

"Tessa, do you take Scott to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, to honor and cherish him, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and to be to him in all things a good an faithful wife as long as you both shall live?”

She answers a little faster this time, and her “I do” sounds much more assured, giving Scott the freedom to relax a little bit more.  

“It is a Christian custom to exchange rings as a symbol of love. As the rings have no end, so your love should have no end. As often as either of you see them, you will be reminded of this moment and the endless love you promised.”

Scott turns slightly to watch at Eric and Chiddy bring the rings forward and place them on the minister’s open Bible. Simple silver bands with the date engraved inside.

When he’d first shown them to Tessa, he’d been worried that she would think they were too plain. Worried that maybe she secretly was the kind of girl who loved big, shiny, sparkly rings – the kind he could probably never afford – but she had immediately assuaged his fears and any feelings of inadequacy and promised that she loved the simple, practical design.

She had also spent the next twenty minutes showing him _just how much_ she liked the rings, but he probably shouldn't be thinking about that in the middle of his wedding.

“Tess, this ring I give to you in token and pledge of my constant faith and abiding love,” Scott says, repeating the minister’s words as instructed, and he can’t help the way his eyes water a little bit as he slides the ring into its permanent home on her finger. The silver band reflecting the sunlight, nearly turning the metal gold like some sort of alchemy experiment, and Scott knows he'll never get tired of seeing it gleaming there on her hand. 

There's a Brontë poem they'd studied last semester in his literature class - something about golden light - and although it wasn't his best subject, a few of the lines come back to him now as if written for this very moment: 

_I would be anything for thee_   
_My love my radiant love_

”Scott, this ring I give to you in token and pledge of my constant faith and abiding love,” Tessa whispers the same words, her own eyes, so rarely filled with tears, on the brink of letting a few loose like him. The ring slides onto his finger with a sense of permanence that makes him feel safe and secure, instead of trapped or worried about the commitment it entails. 

He rather likes having the physical evidence of their bond on his hand for the world to see. 

The minister holds out the wedding license for them to sign – Scott's scribbled signature next to her more attractive and neat one (she'd spent an entire summer practicing getting it just right when she was fourteen) – then beckons Chiddy and Eric forward to sign as their witnesses. A long, silent sigh expels from his lungs as he looks at the completed certificate.

It’s official now, even though the ceremony isn’t quite over. That piece of paper means they’re officially married.

“What, therefore, God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. For as much as Scott and Tessa have consented together in holy matrimony, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and have pledged their love and loyalty to each other, and have declared the same by the joining and the giving of rings, I, therefore, by the authority of the state, pronounce that they are husband and wife. The groom may now kiss the bride.”

_Finally._ Scott doesn’t need to be told twice.

Sweeping Tessa up into his arms, he presses his lips to hers with all the love and devotion currently swirling around inside his heart and pumping through his veins. She reciprocates just as eagerly, holding onto his shoulders for support (since he’s practically knocked her off balance in his eagerness to have her near him).

There are cheers and clapping from the audience, and whoops and whistles from his brothers and Eric and Chiddy, but all Scott can think about is Tessa.

Tessa who is smiling at him like he’s her whole world.

"I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Moir!”

He takes her hand, interlocking his index and middle fingers around her pinky in the hold unique to them, loving her little laugh once she realizes what he's done, and leads her back down the aisle. 

Now she's not just his best friend, she's his  _wife_. 

 -------

 

Scott supposes that at some point today he’ll have to let go of Tessa’s hand, but as they sway back and forth to the song Eric's playing on the piano (he'd insisted he put all those lessons to good use and accompany their first dance) he savors the fact that it doesn't have to happen just yet. And if it were up to him, it wouldn't happen ever. 

Although, he supposes, that would probably be impractical and difficult to sustain long term. 

"Scott?" Tessa whispers, conscious of the fact that they're the center of attention right now. Her face is tucked into the side of his neck as he holds her in close - breath tickling his skin as she speaks and giving him goosebumps. 

"Yeah, T?" He whispers back, turning his head slightly so that she can hear him better, lips grazing the shell of her ear and making her shiver. 

Eric looks at him from over the top of the piano like he knows  _exactly_ where Scott's thoughts are headed, and he tries to rein them in before he gets himself in trouble. 

"I'm happy." 

Her confession, sweet and simple, has him grinning from ear to ear. 

"I'm happy, too." 

"I'm so glad I'm doing this with you, and not anybody else." 

His hands tighten reflexively around her and he kisses the part of her head he can reach, not noticing the photographer snapping a few pictures of them.

"Well, I should hope so. I think I'd have a few things to say if you were dancing with someone else right now." He chuckles, and Tessa nips at his throat a little bit to punish him for teasing her. Although it feels more like a promise of things to come, than it does a serious reprimand.

"You know what I mean." 

He does know. Whether he's nineteen or twenty-five or thirty or ninety-nine, there will never be another girl for him. 

"I know, kiddo." 

She leans back a little so that she can look him in the eye, "I love you." 

"I love you, too." 

A chorus of  _awwws_ breaks out when he presses his lips to hers, but he doesn't care. In this moment, everything feels absolutely perfect. 

 

\-------

 

They have to separate to bid farewell to everyone who came to the combined luncheon/reception and grab their things, but Scott takes her hand again as they drive towards their hotel for the night in London (the fanciest room at the Marriott downtown, a wedding gift courtesy of their siblings) - bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it once for good measure. It's cheesy, and maybe it'll change when the novelty wears off, but he likes that he can feel her wedding ring rubbing against his fingers when he laces them together.

"Wow,” Tessa breathes as Scott swipes his keycard and leads her into room 1417, her eyes going wide at the sight of the curtains stretched wide open to display a magnificent view of the city along the far wall, “This is probably the nicest room I’ve ever been in.”

“Me too.” He readily agrees, eyes scanning the bedroom from side to side as he takes it all in. Everything seems to be colored in warm woods and shades of gold and bronze, somehow managing to make the room feel like a contradictory blend of cozy and opulent, and a king sized bed is placed at the center with about fifty pillows arranged on top.

There are red rose petals sprinkled across the floor and up onto the comforter (Scott laughs at the thought of Danny and Charlie putting them there) – a clear sign that this room is meant for lovers, and everyone knows it.

"It’s weird.” Scott points out, shaking his head, hanging onto Tessa’s hand as she crosses the room to check out the bathroom (there’s a massive bathtub inside that he just knows she’s going to want to try at some point, if her happy tiny squeak is anything to go by).

“What’s weird?” She asks curiously, drooling a little as she looks longingly at the behemoth tub, complete with jets and candles lining the edges.

“That everybody knows we’re going to have sex.”

Tessa's laugh bursts out, echoing on the bathroom walls - the great big belly-shaking laugh she saves only for him - and she shakes her head and gestures to her slightly protruding stomach, “I think they already know we have sex.”

"Yeah, but right now they _know_ know. They know when and where.” He runs his free hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck as Tessa leads him back into the bedroom. Now that he’s realized his whole family knows what they’re up to, he can’t stop thinking about it. It's making him self-conscious in a way he hasn't felt since late 2005 when they first started sleeping together.

The circle pattern on the wallpaper all of a sudden seems like a collection of eyes staring at him, making him cringe and blush. 

That is, until a pillow hits him square in the face.

“Stop obsessing over it. We live together – that’s your when and where most of the time, and everybody knows that. Nobody cares.”

Scott stares at her, completely taken off guard and slightly offended, but she just tilts her head and smiles coyly – holding up the pillow like a weapon and flicking her head in warning.

“Are you picking a fight, Mrs. Moir?” He asks, preparing to defend himself against her next attack. 

“Oh, I definitely am, Mr. Moir.” She nods, a wicked gleam in her eye, "Alma said I should get the first fight out of the way as soon as possible, so that's what I'm doing."

"Somehow I don't think this is quite what she meant," Scott eyes her pillow carefully, keeping an eye out for any sign of movement while trying to figure out how to get close enough to the bed to arm himself.

"It's not my fault she didn't specify what kind of fight." She shrugs, and in an instant Scott dives for one of the other pillows on the bed, dodging her swing and avoiding being hit again – twisting around as fast as he can to retaliate and managing to land a blow on her shoulder.

Soon the room is full of shrieks and peals of laughter as they attempt to hit each other with pillows, Tessa - once there - preferring to guard her position standing high atop the bed so that he can only reach her lower half while Scott grabs every throw pillow he can find and chucks them at her.

"Do you surrender!?" She asks, landing a solid blow on top of his head and laughing when he reaches out and tickles the back of her knee in response - nearly falling in her haste to get away. 

"Never! Moirs never say die!" 

He manages to wrangle her down to the mattress, wrenching the pillow out of her hands and tossing it over his shoulder behind them - leaving the bed safe and pillow-free. 

"I think that was the Goonies." Tessa points out, breathless and grinning underneath him. 

Scott opens his mouth to respond when the phone rings, forcing him to roll over towards the nightstand and pick it up. When he answers, he receives a stern reprimand from the hotel manager informing them of the noise complaints and asking that they kindly keep it down – sending Tessa rolling with another fit of giggles while Scott collapses onto the bed beside her with an embarrassed groan.

“There. Now people think we’re having _kinky_ sex.” She teases, poking him in the ribs, and Scott growls at her.

“You’re evil.”

She makes a noise of protest in the back of her throat, propping herself up on her elbows so that she can glare at him, “I was just trying to help you feel less self-conscious!”

Reaching out and curling his fingers around her waist, he pulls her over so that she's on top of him – her white dress turning into a cloud of chiffon and silk around them.

“Causing mischief is what you were doing.” He teases, leaning his head up so that he can give into the impulse to kiss her neck like he’s been wanting to do all day.

“Well, yeah, that too.” She agrees, tilting her head to the side to grant him better access.

“What am I going to do with you?” He tsks, his lips grazing along the hollow of her throat as the mood shifts from playful to promising. The air growing heavy with their desire for each other. 

He idly wonders if there will ever be a day (or hour, or minute) when he doesn't want her, and as she slowly grinds her hips into his he knows the answer is a resounding  _no_. 

“Kiss me anytime you want?” She smiles softly down at him, searching his face for recognition of the words, and her comment sparks a memory in the back of his mind.

A memory of an icy rink in the middle of the night and promises made between children many years ago.

“Yeah,” He whispers, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers, the medal of his wedding ring gliding along the skin of her jaw as her eyelashes flutter closed, “I’m definitely going to do that.”   

 

 

 

         


	19. April 23, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you've read Coming Home to You, then you were expecting this chapter to happen at some point.  
> This is the chapter where Tessa has the miscarriage. 
> 
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a doctor, so if I get some things wrong here, please forgive me. I have tried to portray this as seriously and respectfully as I can, and tried to stay true to how a 17 year old girl would be feeling. 
> 
> Miscarriages are very common, but that doesn't make them any less of a tragedy for millions of women every year. I have witnessed this grief firsthand multiple times, and my heart goes out to all who have been affected by it.

**there's a whole other conversation going on**

**in a parallel universe**

**where nothing breaks and nothing hurts**

 

_**April 23, 2007** _

_**London, Ontario** _

 

“What do you think it will be?” Scott asks eagerly as they drive down the familiar road towards the London Health Sciences Centre. His left leg jiggling wildly as he carefully monitors their speed – making sure to keep the car five kilometers slower than the traffic signs demand.

“I don’t know. A baby, I hope.” Tessa replies facetiously, copying down the events for the year 1914 on one of the many notecards she'd brought with her that morning – her textbook splayed across her lap so that she can study while they drive.

“I think I want a girl. With lots of freckles, like you.” Scott continues, humming thoughtfully and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel along to the persistent beat of AC/DC. Sunlight periodically bouncing off the silver band on his left ring-finger as it moves.

"That would be nice.” She replies absentmindedly, trying to focus on her work. She has a history midterm the next day that she desperately needs to do well on, if she wants to keep her spot as first in their class above Chiddy.

The two of them have been competing with each other's grades all year in an attempt to claim the honor of being valedictorian, and Tessa's determined to keep her current spot on top of the podium. 

“Or a boy! And we can play hockey and go to all the Leafs games together.” Scott slows down behind a semi-truck, instead of taking advantage of the yellow dotted lines and passing it like he normally would, and Tessa rolls her eyes a little at how overly cautious he's become lately. 

“You could do that with a girl,” Tessa points out, digging around in her backpack and pulling out a pink highlighter.

“That's a good point. So a girl then? I’ve been thinking of names.”

“You have?” Tessa pauses while turning a sentence about Franz Ferdinand bright pink, looking over at Scott with a furrowed brow and biting her bottom lip as she waits for his reply. She’d been trying _not_ to think about these things. Struggling to just take it all as it comes and not let any of the recent upheavals in their life affect her test scores or prevent her from being the best student in her grade.

Scott can indulge in the daydreams about the baby’s looks and name – she's had more important things on her mind.

Once summer vacation arrives, then she can focus on their child. When school is no longer an issue (she's already decided to defer starting university for a semester while the baby is so young), then she'll start worrying about the safest cribs and best car seats and wondering whether or not their baby will come out with a full head of hair like Scott. 

She rather hopes it does. 

"What do you think about Jane?” He asks, a hopeful little smile teasing the corners of his mouth, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction.

“Jane?”

“For the baby. I was thinking Jane Alma Moir.”

“But then her initials would spell JAM,” Tessa grimaces, thinking of sticky fingers and goo all over their furniture. They can't name their child after a food. 

“A good name for the sweetest baby in the whole world.” Scott replies with a big grin and sparkling eyes, his enthusiasm lacing every word.

Frankly, she’s jealous of how easily he’s adjusted to the idea of them having a baby. For her, it’s been much harder to wrap her mind around.

"You don’t know that. She might be a terror.”

He rolls his eyes, and Tessa can tell from the slight sag in his shoulders that he’s annoyed and disappointed that she isn’t playing along, and she’s immediately awash with guilt.

Scott’s thrown himself into this one hundred percent, which she loves about him, but she… hasn’t.

“What about boy names?” She asks, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth over any awkwardness or hard feelings. She  _is_ interested to know what other names he's thought of (probably during those hours she thought he was making and crossing off lists for statistics).

“Well, my middle name is Patrick, but I had to rule that out right away. Chiddy would have a field day if we named our baby that - you know he'd say it was named after him - and Eric would be _pissed_.”

Tessa laughs, closing her textbook and putting it away. Her studies can wait another hour or two while they theorize about their child and go to this doctor’s appointment. Surely it won't cause any lasting damage to her GPA if she indulges Scott for a little while.

“Naming our baby Patrick would cause world war three, that’s for sure.”

“I like Jacob, or Logan, or Oliver, or Luke. I dunno, T,” Scott chuckles, taking a left on Commissioners Road, “Boy names are harder to choose than girl names.”

“Luke,” Tessa says in a small voice, testing how the name sounds rolling off of her tongue, “Lucas Moir. That sounds nice.”

Scott smiles softly at her, allowing himself to take his eyes off the road for a second and meet hers while he reaches for her hand and kisses the back of her knuckles above her wedding band (a habit he's picked up in the last week), “Yeah, I like that too.”

 

The waiting room is practically indistinguishable from other doctor office waiting rooms, which Tessa appreciates. She likes that there isn’t an overabundance of baby or new mother pictures on the walls reminding her of her condition everywhere that she looks. She already gets reminded about her pregnancy every morning when she tries to do up her jeans and fails (she’s stubbornly resisted buying maternity clothes so far - opting to wear more and more of Scott's clothes instead).

Scott pulls her hand into his lap, running his thumb soothingly back and forth across her knuckles – although who he’s soothing, she isn’t sure. The jiggling in his leg has returned from earlier as he struggles to sit still, and Tessa wonders briefly if she should tell him to go burn off some of that adrenaline. 

Maybe they could find a linen closet somewhere nearby and work it off together. 

Her legs squeeze together of their own accord at the enticing thought, and a little shiver runs up her spine. 

"Are you cold?" Scott's instantly there, already starting to remove his hoodie, but Tessa shakes her head and tugs it back into place for him - letting her fingers graze along his stomach a bit more than necessary. 

To be honest, she's just horny. Which isn’t unusual for her these days now that she's in her second trimester (the morning sickness thankfully seems to have become a thing of the past). She’s also kind of craving an egg salad sandwich, which is a little strange. Last week it had been nothing but peanut butter and sweet pickles (Scott still hasn’t stopped teasing her about that one).

"Tessa?” The door opens and a nurse in maroon scrubs steps out, holding up a clipboard, “Dr. Lovett is ready for you now. Come on back.”

 

“How’s Mom doing?” Dr. Lovett, Tessa’s OBGYN, asks with a kind smile. It’s still jarring to hear herself referred to that way, and Tessa has to resist the urge to correct her. The first time she’d come in for an appointment, she’d thought the doctor meant Kate and answered that her mother was doing well – earning a few chuckles and embarrassing her to no end when she realized her mistake.

"I’m fine,” Tessa gives her a perfunctory reply. It's probably not necessary for the doctor to know how much she wants to jump Scott's bones lately. 

She likes the older, grey-haired woman well enough, trusts her with her pregnancy and labor and delivery, but Tessa still isn’t used to sharing so many details about her body and its changes. Or having ultrasounds and taking pre-natal vitamins. Or thinking of herself as pregnant.

“And Dad?” Dr. Lovett turns to Scott, who grins back at her like that's the greatest title he's ever heard – his hand still clasped firmly in Tessa’s.

“On top of the world!”

“Excellent. That's what I like to hear. Now, let’s check up on baby. You wanted to find out the sex today, right?”

“Yep!” Scott practically yells, bouncing up onto his tiptoes for a brief second, and Dr. Lovett laughs again – a pretty sound like silver bells that kind of grates on Tessa’s nerves.

She wants so badly to feel excited like they do. Her hand grips Scott's a little tighter, hoping that maybe some of his enthusiasm will journey through their palms and into her.

“Tessa, if you could lift your shirt, please. You know the drill.”

The jelly is cold on her skin and she sucks in a breath as the doctor spreads it around her stomach, and Scott winces sympathetically - bending over to kiss her forehead, and Tessa tilts her chin up for a quick peck on the lips as well. 

“Alright,” Dr. Lovett wheels a chair over and pulls out the ultrasound probe, “Let’s take a look!”

The probe moves around over her stomach as the grainy black and white image pops up on the screen - that familiar crescent shape that Tessa has been assured is her uterus, even though it looks more like a submarine doppler radar system. Any second now the familiar speedy heartbeat of their baby will start and Dr. Lovett will say it's somewhere between 120 and 160 beats per minute and congratulate them on a healthy fetus. 

 _Any second now_ , Tessa thinks as the smile on the doctor's face turns into a small frown and the probe digs into her stomach a little harder. 

 _Any second now_. 

 

* * *

 

Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome.

That’s what Dr. Lovett had said after checking Tessa into the hospital and calling in a hematologist to run some emergency tests - taking advantage of the hospital's onsite lab to get quick results.  

An autoimmune disease - easily missed if there are no symptoms - a condition where her body apparently makes antibodies that attack normal cells and tissues.

Cells and tissues that, in this case, had been creating a baby.

“You didn’t have any symptoms – no blood clots, chest pain, headaches – there’s no way you would have known without special blood tests,” The hematologist had explained, sympathy written all over his ruddy features, but Tessa knew that wasn’t true.

If she had been more diligent, more focused on having a healthy pregnancy instead of just assuming that everything was fine, she would have asked for extra tests. She _should_ have asked for extra tests. Right from day one.

So when she hears Dr. Lovett say that less than twenty percent of miscarriages happen after the first trimester, she hears _this has to be your fault_.

When they assure her that, even though she'll always have APS, it a manageable disease, she hears _you should have known about this_.

When they tell her that she'll still be able to have children in the future, with a mixture of medication and monitoring, she hears  _you could have prevented this from happening._

She looks back over the last four months and catalogs all of the mistakes that she made. Should she have taken her prenatal vitamins more consistently? Gone to the doctor more often? She’d eaten sushi one day in early February without knowing it was off limits – did that cause this? Or maybe it was because she was drunk during conception? Had the alcohol in her system weakened her fetus so that it couldn’t fight against the antibodies? Maybe if she’d just read _What to Expect While You’re Expecting_ more diligently, she would have known this might happen.

Because she hadn’t expected this.

She hadn't really wanted a baby, not yet, and now it’s gone.

Wished away.

And it's her fault.

She’s ruined everything.

Scott holds on tight to her hand, wiping away his tears with the other, asking the doctors questions and learning how to manage the disease in the future and making sure that she’ll be okay, and discussing what will happen during her D&C (the procedure to remove any remaining tissue from the uterus so that she doesn’t get sick), but Tessa isn’t crying. She isn’t anything. She just feels… numb.

What a cruel twist of fate that just as she was getting used to the idea, trying to feel excited, it was all ripped away.

 _Her fault_.

If she’d just wanted the baby more – obsessed more over her own health – Scott wouldn’t look like that.

Worried. Afraid. Heartbroken. 

A devastated expression that she's never seen on his face before - and she put it there.

_Her fault._

        

 

“Can I get you anything, Tess?” Scott asks quietly as she curls up in their bed at home a few hours later, her stomach cramping as a result of the procedure. It’s a normal side-effect, the doctor had assured her as they left the hospital, and she’d been prescribed some pain medication to help manage it. But she won’t take it.

She deserves this.

“No.” She barely manages to reply, rolling onto her side away from him and his sad eyes. _Will he ever be able to look at me the same way again?_

“Okay. I’m going to… I need to go take a shower.”

It’s only late afternoon - too early for a shower - but she can hear the thickness in his voice, the tears threatening to fall, and knows what he’s really saying.

He needs to cry.

She wants to reach out to him, to grab his hand and pull him into the bed so that they can cry together, but she doesn’t deserve that. Doesn't deserve his comfort.

Because the truth is, they wouldn’t be crying for the same reasons.

Instead she hums in acknowledgement and lets him go, pulling the quilt further up around her ears and then letting out a shaky sigh and covering her head completely. 

The water turns on, the pipes making their usual clanking noises as they heat up, but she can still hear his sobs clearly through the walls.

He’s crying for their son (Dr. Lovett had confirmed, despite Tessa silently begging her not to). For little Lucas or Oliver or Jacob who will never be.

Scott’s grieving.

Tessa does cry then. Great heaving sobs that shake her whole body and only make the cramping worse. Her face buried into the pillow – soaking it with salty tears that just won’t stop coming.

She cries for Scott.

For herself.

For their marriage – so fresh and new and joyous – now drowning in uncertainty. A marriage that might have been pointless without impending parenthood.

And she cries with guilt. The utter despair seeping out of her pores at the knowledge that she’s done this. Somehow she’s responsible for the tragedy Scott is feeling now. The one person she loves most in the entire world - who she’d never, ever wanted to hurt - who now hurts worse than he ever has before in his life.

 _Her fault_.

She’d been so focused on school and full of regret (and yes, sometimes resentment) about the pregnancy, and trying to keep all those negative feelings hidden from everyone around her. Trying not to feel like she’d made the biggest mistake of her life that New Year’s Eve.

And that’s really the worst thing of all. Because while she mourns the life that was lost, she mostly just feels _relief_.

And she hates herself for it.

 

* * *

 

The grey light of pre-dawn streams in between the curtains that they forgot to close the night before, prodding Scott awake and making him increasingly aware of the pounding in his head and the burning behind his eyes. His mouth is so dry it could give the Sahara Desert a run for its money - his tongue roughly the same texture as the sand -  and he briefly wonders why he has such a bad hangover on a Tuesday morning in April.

Then he remembers.

His hand, resting over Tessa’s stomach while she sleeps, holds nothing.

Their baby is gone.

A rare, tragic second semester miscarriage thanks to a condition that Tessa couldn’t have possibly known she had.

Blinking away a fresh set of tears (and really, it's a wonder there's any liquid left in his body to expel), Scott quietly gets out of bed, careful not to jostle it too much and accidentally wake up Tess – he’s certain that she must be even more exhausted than he is. He can’t even imagine the pain she must be going through – finding out they lost their baby, finding out she has an autoimmune disease, and having to have surgery all in one day.

It’s an absolute nightmare and he wishes that he could take it away from her.

Pulling on a hoodie, he pats Tallulah on the head and steps out onto the front porch, the crisp morning spring air cutting into his lungs with each breath.

He welcomes the pain. It stops him from crying and distracts him from the ache in his heart.

The sound of a screen door opening and closing alerts him to the presence of Mrs. Campbell, their neighbor who doesn’t like them much due to an unfortunate incident involving her cats (despite Tessa’s attempts to make peace), and he raises a hand in greeting.

Unfailingly polite, even in the depths of despair. Just like his mama raised him.

The older woman surprises him by hobbling over, carrying two mugs in her hands. The white whisps of steam swirling lightly before dissipating into the cold.

“I heard what happened,” She says, straight to the point, handing him one of the mugs without ceremony, “I’m sorry.”

Of course she heard. In a town where everybody knows everybody, and nothing can happen without it speeding down the gossip grape vine, Scott isn’t surprised to learn that she’s heard about the miscarriage so soon.

He’d called his parents while Tessa was getting the procedure done (they promised to come over first thing this morning), then texted Eric and Chiddy. He assumes they told their families and the news spread from there. Mrs. Radford is not exactly known for being discreet.

There’s a brief flutter of anger that the news got out so quickly, but it’s immediately swallowed by his overwhelming grief – no room in his heart right now for anything other than sorrow.

He swallows around the lump in his throat that’s starting to feel like a permanent fixture of his physiology, before managing to say thank you – taking a tentative sip of the coffee. It’s surprisingly not bad.

They stand there, an unlikely pair, watching the sunrise in silence. Scott doesn’t have the presence of mind for small talk, and he has no idea what he would say anyway. Everything seems too trivial right now.

She doesn’t speak again until the coffee is almost gone.

"I had a miscarriage once, when I was about Tessa’s age. I know people don’t really talk about these things, which is a damn shame because it can be terribly isolating, but I know how she’s feeling.”

Scott nearly chokes on the last gulp of coffee at her confession, not expecting it at all after weeks of barely two words passing between them. Mrs. Campbell doesn’t look at him though, just keeps her gaze fixed on the fields stretching out in front of them.

“She’ll recover, Scott. Just be patient. Don't rush her - give her time and space to come to terms with what’s happened.”

“You think so?” The idea of it goes against his natural instinct. His desire to hold as tightly onto Tessa as she’ll let him and try to carry them both through this. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, but then – he’s not a woman. He’s just a nineteen year old boy. He doesn’t know exactly how she’s feeling right now.

“I do.” The old lady nods, taking his empty mug out of his hands and turning back towards her trailer.

“Thank you.” Scott manages to say, louder this time so that she can hear him as she walks away.

"You're welcome." She replies with a firm nod before disappearing back inside, and Scott breathes a little easier. 

Maybe Mrs. Campbell is right - the best thing he can do for Tessa right now is give her some space, no matter how hard that might be. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @MissSixFics for helping me with the tone of this chapter <3


	20. May - November 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neither of us is happy  
> but neither of us wants to leave  
> so we keep breaking one another  
> and calling it love  
> \- Rupi Kaur
> 
> Rating: T/M  
> Warning: Tessa is clearly struggling with depression and it's clouding her vision and impacting all of her choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has given me writer's block like nothing else. I kept going back and forth on the layout/structure/content, etc.  
> Angst and sadness is hard! I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but I think it's just one of those chapters that you have to get out of the way so you can move forward. 
> 
> Ultimately, I condensed what was going to be multiple chapters into one. I think it works better this way, and it makes me less depressed (lol). The prospect of writing ten straight sad chapters was proving to be impossible and against my nature.
> 
> Anyway, the point of all this is to say, hopefully you don't mind that I shortened the sad part of their story. This way we all suffer less ;) 
> 
> For Tessa's graduation dress I pictured her iconic Umbrellas dress from Worlds. 
> 
> Also, a few of you were asking for a shower sex scene... all I can say is - be careful what you wish for.
> 
> (sorry)

** my barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone **

****

**_May 17, 2007_ **

**_The Trailer, Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

Twenty-four days, six hours, and twelve minutes.

Twenty-four days of agony. Of loneliness. Of grief. Of guilt. 

Twenty-four days of painful mornings where Tessa awakes with a smile that crumbles into ashes moments later when the memories come rushing back. 

Memories of what she'd done. 

The first fifteen days after that fateful OBGYN visit, Tessa had curled up in a ball on the couch and barely moved - completely shutting out the world around her. The world that lately serves only to remind her of the maelstrom that is her life. Avoiding everybody that she knew (minus visits from her mother and Jordan) - people who were constantly asking how she was, expressing their condolences, telling her personal anecdotes that she didn't want to hear and couldn't relate to, checking up on her. 

Treating her like a patient instead of a person. 

Forcing her to lie again and again and again and pretend that everything is fine. Pretend that she isn't a shell of the person she once was. 

Avoiding school and what's sure to be the curious stares of her fellow classmates - itching for the latest gossip that she has no interest in being the subject of (or, at least, no interest in being  _present_ while she's the subject of it). 

And avoiding Scott, which has honestly been a little too easy considering the fact that they live together. 

She had expected him to be everywhere. To hold her and cry with her and share his feelings - always so much closer to the surface than her own. To practically smother her with attention. 

But instead, he... hasn't. 

He's still thoughtful, still makes sure to ask if she needs anything, and still tries his best to get her to eat something other than cereal and chocolate milk, but besides that that he's been keeping his distance. 

Not that she can really blame him. It hurts and sometimes it makes her mad, but how can she be upset or demand his forgiveness when she hasn't forgiven herself yet? After all, he has every right to be angry with her. 

Which is why it had come as a bit of a shock when she'd arrived home from her shift at the Daisy Mart that day and been greeted by loud cheers and a rousing rendition of the Happy Birthday song. Somehow Scott had managed to fit his parents, her parents, Eric, and Chiddy into the tiny space alongside a giant birthday cake and bucket of chocolate fudge ice cream – not to mention the gold 1 and 8 balloons tied to the TV antenna that float somewhat ominously above all of them. It was a feat comparable to getting one of those little ships into a glass bottle.

A wonderful surprise.

And a terrible idea.

 

At first Tessa hadn’t noticed – too caught up in Scott’s tentatively hopeful smile and the warm, happy buzz of friendly chatter and feeling like a normal girl for the first time in months – but when she’d excused herself to go to the bathroom the change had become obvious.

Conversations were more subdued, looks more hesitant and loaded with unspoken thoughts, touches and hugs more reserved and tinted with sympathy rather than celebration, when she was in the room. The moment she’d shut the bathroom door behind her, there had been an audible shift in the party’s atmosphere.

It immediately sounded happier, more animated, and more fun.

Tessa looks at herself in the bathroom mirror, her grey denim vest over a black t-shirt, flared jeans, her brown hair clipped partially back away from her face, the hoop earrings Jordan had given her for her birthday last year – it all adds up to a cute, stylish outfit. By all accounts she should be able to blend in and look celebratory. She  _should_ be acting eighteen and having the time of her life. Maybe getting a little drunk and cutting loose on a dance floor somewhere. But she can't seem to fit into that life anymore, no matter how hard she tries. 

It’s her face that’s the problem, she determines as she stares at her reflection in the poorly lit bathroom mirror. It's all wrong. 

Sallow. That’s how she would describe her appearance now. Sallow and pallid and almost gaunt in the right (or wrong) lighting. Everything from the neck down says  _I’m a cute girl with a bright future celebrating her eighteenth birthday_ , but her face reflects only tragedy. Apparently, while guilt had been eating her alive from the inside, it had also been warping her features to match. 

It’s no wonder that her presence is such a buzzkill. 

Leaning in close – close enough to see every freckle and blemish – Tessa lifts her hands up to her mouth and starts forcefully twisting and molding it, warping it into some semblance of a genuine smile.

_Fake it ‘til you make it, Tessa_ ,  _you’re depressing people with your depression._

A soft knock on the door jolts her out of her despondency and she opens it up, revealing Scott on the other side.

“Hey. You disappeared.” He shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, his eyes scanning hers for any trace of tears like he always does these days. Even though he's cried more than she has (always in the shower. Always when he thinks she can't hear him). 

Although maybe that's the secret to recovery, because he's also arguably bounced back much faster than she has. Back to school, back to hanging out with friends, back to laughter. 

Tessa wants to recover like he mostly has, but it still feels wrong to be happy after what had happened. Maybe if he would take her hand again and show her the way...

“Sorry. Nature called.” She replies - her voice a weird blend between monotone and attempted cheerfulness in an attempt to reassure him that she's fine. Their conversations feel so formal now. So loaded and tense. As if both of them are terrified of saying the wrong thing that they hardly say anything at all.

“Right. Um… there are presents out there, if you’re ready to come open them.” Scott jerks his head towards the living room, and Tessa nods. 

“Sure. Sounds great. Thank you.”

They watch each other for a moment, the silence hanging heavy in the air.  _Take my hand, Scott. Please take it_ , she silently begs him - her eyes dropping down to where his fingers twitch against his thigh - but then he's pushing off the wall and heading back towards the party, leaving her behind to find her own way. 

She watches him go with a heart that seems to grow heavier with every step that he takes away from her. 

What she really wants is to climb into her bed, tug the blankets over her head, and bury herself until tomorrow comes, but her family and friends are out there trying to support her so she takes a deep breath and resolves to play the happy birthday girl. 

Pasting on her newly molded smile, Tessa follows Scott's path and tries not to cringe when the party noticeably mellows the minute she steps back into the room. She can do this. She can make it through one party. 

When it's over, then she can run and hide.

 

* * *

  

**_June 12, 2007_ **

**_The Trailer, Ilderton_ **

****

There’s a long zigzag crack winding its way down the sheetrock in the corner on the far wall of their bedroom, and from her vantage point on the mattress Tessa can almost turn it into the river Nile when she squints – the slight discolorations in the paint transforming into the pyramids.

She traces it with her eyes every morning after Scott slips out of the bed – untangling their intertwined bodies as if he’s ashamed and apologetic about reaching out for her during the night - and escapes to the bathroom.

Every morning the crack seems to grow a little more.

Through the thin wall she can hear him turning on the shower and getting ready to head to work. He’d told her the night before, over a dinner of poached eggs and toast (which is just about all that she can manage to make without burning anything, apparently), that he was going to get an extra shift in today before his final exam that afternoon down at Western University.

Across the room her new periwinkle silk and chiffon dress hangs from the door of the closet – ready and waiting to be worn in a couple of days at her high school graduation ceremony. Taunting her with the reminder that the whole day lies before her - vast and empty. Without the prospect of schoolwork anymore to distract her, Tessa shifts her gaze to the white stucco ceiling and sighs.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. As if the world hasn’t woken up yet and remains stuck in that early morning lull for a little longer than usual. And that’s bad.

In the past two months, silence has become the enemy.

In the silence the thoughts start creeping in, shadows and doubts crawling out of the corners of her mind and threatening to consume her. Obsessive thoughts that she mulls over until they disintegrate and then rebuilds until they’re even more twisted and darker than before.

Next to her the mattress grows cold, and with it so does she. A chill that no amount of blankets can seem to subdue. 

Goosebumps spread across her skin as it seeps into her bones, and she thinks longingly of the warmth the shower would provide. The shower and the body inside it. The body she wishes would hold her and put her back together and tell her that everything is alright.

In an instant, she makes a decision.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she stands up and heads slowly down the hallway, taking deep fortifying breaths as she goes, before pausing outside of the bathroom door.

_Just go in. You’ve seen him naked before._

_What if he doesn’t want me to intrude?_

_We haven’t had sex since… before… maybe he doesn’t want me anymore_.

The monsters in her head clamber for attention, shoving forward different reasons why this really isn’t a good idea and why she should turn around right now and get back in bed until Scott is done.

But… she misses him.

And maybe it’s selfish, maybe she doesn’t deserve to feel pleasure anymore, but she misses the connection that they share when they have sex. Misses the way he makes her  _feel_.

It’s been two months since she’s felt much of anything even simulating happiness.

Two months of endless guilt and blame and shame. Of well-meaning family members and neighbors unceasingly asking if she’s alright. Telling her how sorry they are. Commiserating over the tragedy.

They don’t know that the real tragedy exists in the form of Tessa herself. Her inability to feel the right kind of sorrow that everyone tells her she should.

And doesn’t that make her a monster? A monster parading around as a skinny eighteen year old girl with scared, fragile eyes.

Screwing her eyes shut tight in an attempt to push away her vulnerabilities, Tessa opens the bathroom door. Steam instantly hitting her face and her skin growing damp, the heat of the shower already starting to help ease the cold in her bones, and after another deep breath Tessa slowly opens her eyes.

The sight before her could almost make her cry. 

Scott hasn’t noticed her yet – too busy working the shampoo in his hair into a nice, thick lather and humming some country song to himself that she doesn’t recognize. Probably something cliché about a truck, a dog, and a girl.

She wishes she knew what it was.

Tessa crosses the tiny room, shedding her pajama pants and tank top as she walks, and opens the shower door – water instantly spraying out all over her and forcing her to hop inside without warning, pulling the glass door closed behind her so that the water doesn’t spill out onto the floor and create a puddle. The last thing they need right now is maintenance issues or for one of them to slip and break a leg.

“Tess!?” Scott asks in shock, pressing himself backwards into the tiles on the wall as much as he can in the cramped space, “What are you doing?”

“I needed to take a shower,” She replies with a little shrug, trying to appear more confident than she feels as she reaches  out to wipe away the trail of shampoo dripping down his forehead and threatening to get into his eye.

“Uh… I’ll be done in like five minutes.” His voice stutters as his eyes drop to her breasts, then skitter away as his cheeks turn pink. His refusal to look at her, to appreciate her body like he did for two years up until April, sets her teeth on edge. Her cheeks flood with color, but she resists the urge to cover herself. She hasn’t felt self-conscious in front of him in a long time, and she isn’t about to start now. Especially since she'd put the belly-button ring back in, which she'd hoped would make him happy and help convince him that she wants this. She's ready for this.

“No, you won’t,” She tells him with a smirk, tracing her index finger down the happy trail that’s finally started to grow and feeling satisfied at the way his cock twitches helplessly.

Scott wraps his fingers around her wrist just as she’s about to touch him and pulls her hand away, “I have to leave for work soon.”

“I know.”

“So, uh, we don't really have time...”

“You don't have to leave for another twenty minutes. We have plenty of time.” She rises onto her tiptoes so that she can press a kiss into his jaw, running her lips back and forth across his skin before taking his bottom lip into her mouth and tugging on it with her teeth.

Scott groans, his hands scrambling for purchase on her wet hips as he pulls her in close and presses their bodies together under the steady stream of hot water. The mental image of how they must look right now makes Tessa think of that scene in the rain in the first Spider-Man movie (Scott always did love superheroes), and she smiles her first real, genuinely happy smile in months.

She'd be the Mary Jane to his Peter Parker any day. 

The tiles are cold against her back as Scott presses her into them while kissing her, but they soon heat up under her skin, and Tessa uses the newfound leverage to position Scott’s thigh between hers – giving her something to grind on. She scrapes her nails lightly down his back as she moves to cup his ass, intending to pull him in even closer, and he groans into her neck before latching onto her pulse point and sucking.

She can feel how hard he is against her, and she grins. _At least s_ _ome things haven’t changed_ , she thinks with a self-satisfied mental high-five, grinding harder against him and reaching down to take him in hand, “I thought you might want to do this.”

She means for it to sound coy, playful, and inviting, and for a second Scott holds her so tightly she thinks she can feel all of her broken parts coming back together underneath his strong arms. She’s _ecstatic_  that this is going so well, and tries to convey that through the way she works him with her hand and plants tender kisses all across his shoulder. 

“ _Tessa_.” The way he whispers her name is so reverent, but so full of regret, that it makes her freeze.

His hands squeeze once, twice, three times around her ribs as he buries his face into her collarbone, his breathing becoming purposefully slow and deep - the way it does when he’s trying to get himself under control. Which is the exact opposite of what she wants right now.

“Scott?” She asks carefully, nipping at his shoulder before running her closed lips back and forth along it to sooth the sting, "What's wrong?" 

“We can’t do this.”

Despite the warm water, it feels like a bucket of ice has just been dumped on her head, “What?”

“It’s not right… it’s too soon. You’re not- I don't want to pressure you.”

His words are incomprehensible, even as he pulls away and reaches for the door, and she struggles to catch on.  _Pressure her_? She's the one that came onto him - invading his shower and making an obvious move.

“No, wait-“

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you after work.”

He jumps out of the shower, closing the door behind him and leaving her alone inside the tiny space to watch him walk out of the room through the foggy glass. She can still see visible remnants of shampoo in his hair as he grabs a towel off the rack and disappears around the corner.

He doesn’t look back.

Tears turn into harsh, broken sobs that threaten to tear her apart as Tessa tries to hold herself up - the tiles on the wall a poor replacement for his arms. 

This wasn't supposed to happen. They aren't supposed to be like this.

All of the pieces she’d thought he was putting back together crumble down around her like a house of cards, and she folds.

 

* * *

  

**_June 14, 2007_ **

**_Medway High School_ **

****

_Graduation robes don’t flatter anybody_ , Tessa tries to remind herself as she takes her seat in the second row in the front of the gymnasium. Above her maroon streamers that match the giant letter M's on the front wall hang low across the ceiling in a cheap attempt at creating a celebratory environment.

She can feel the eyes of a few of her classmates that she hasn't seen in months following her as she does an awkward sort of crab-walk between the rows of chairs towards her seat – mostly girls. Specifically girls who she knows had crushes on Scott when he was at school last year (not that she can really blame them).

They’re the same judgmental looks that she’s been getting since moving in with Scott. Looks that beat into her brain every day just how much people think she is undeserving of the life she has – or, rather, the boy.

_Not that I really have him anymore_ , the monsters in her head remind her, and Tessa falls into her seat wishing that she could crawl underneath it instead.

Chiddy, bless his heart, stands up from his chair at the front of the room next to their teachers as soon as he sees her and gives her a huge, bright smile and a big wave - making her laugh. The gold stole hanging around his shoulders only sending a small pang of envy through her, instead of the white hot jealousy she might have felt under different circumstances.

He deserves to be valedictorian. He’d worked incredibly hard all year, and he hadn’t let himself grow listless for two weeks at the end of April and stopped showing up for class. Really, she's lucky that the principal had let her complete her classes by correspondence for the rest of the semester, because otherwise she might not be graduating at all.   

Second place is almost as good as first, even if it tastes bitter on the back of her tongue.

“I thought she was knocked up.”

“I don’t see anything. Didn’t she lose it?”

"That's what my mom said. She said that's what you get when you have premarital sex. That, or an STD."  

“How careless do you have to be to lose a baby before it’s even outside your stomach?”

“Maybe she lied. Everyone knows how weirdly attached she is to Scott. Maybe she couldn’t stand the idea of him meeting new girls at university.”

“Probably afraid of him ditching her for someone prettier.”

“It’s such a waste.”

“I heard from my brother that he’s pretty popular there, too. It’s too bad he’s stuck with her.”

The whispered voices of a few of the girls carry over to her, their remarks, cutting and carelessly cruel, making Tessa duck her head and stare fixedly at an old grey piece of gum stuck to the floor. If she concentrates she can just barely make out the tread of someone’s shoe long ago still marked in it.

It's gross, but she might be willing to trade places with it if it means no longer having a pair of ears. The girls talk as if they don't know that she can hear them. Don't know and don't care.  

Old Tessa, the one  _before_ , would have wasted no time telling them to shut up. Scott definitely would if he could hear them, probably while using much stronger language. But she just doesn’t have it in her anymore. Can't see the point in making a scene and embarrassing herself. 

Besides, how can she defend herself against accusations that aren’t exactly false? She was careless, she is afraid that Scott will stop loving her (if he hasn’t already), and he does deserve so much better than this life she’s given him.

“Tess!” The man in question's voice calls out from the back of the gymnasium, forcing her to shake free of her melancholy thoughts and turn to find him. He’s waving both arms to make sure that she can see him (even though the gym is pretty small), and his brown button-down shirt comes slightly untucked from his jeans at the motion.

He looks good. Handsome.

She wants nothing more in that moment than to run to him and beg him to take her away from all this. Wants to drag him back to their home and climb into bed with him and tell him everything that she’s been feeling and thinking. Grab his arms and wrap them around her and make him never let her go. Only, she’s not sure that he would listen or want that anymore.

Instead, she waves back, greeting him with a small smile that becomes slightly more genuine as he mouths  _are you okay?_  – his brow furrowing in concern. Probably picking up on her body language, clearly slumped and uncomfortable, and Tessa makes an effort to sit up straighter - feeling touched that he'd noticed.

_Yeah_ , she mouths back.

_No,_  her heart longs to say, but she forces it to keep quiet. 

 

“My fellow graduates. Over the years here at Medway High School, we have learned a lot. Mrs. Peterson taught us how to find the roots of polynomials, Mr. Stone took us on the road with Jack Kerouac, and Mrs. Ingalls taught us how to swear in French. All of this knowledge will no doubt be valuable as we go forward in life. But I think that the most important thing that we have learned over the last four years is how much we need each other to succeed. Over the next few minutes, I’d like to talk about what we’ve learned, the people that we have to thank, and the people we have to remember-“

Chiddy carries on, his voice confident and magnetic, somehow managing to capture the attention of an entire student body previously focused on shedding their maroon robes and leaving the cramped school behind forever.

But Tessa tunes him out – too focused on the words  _need each other_ as they bounce around in her head to care about platitudes and anecdotes.

She needs Scott. Needs him like she needs air to breathe. But she also needs him to be happy, and she knows that he isn't. The contradiction is eating her up inside, and she has no idea how to fix it. No idea what to do or say that could possibly make things right. 

_Maybe... maybe the problem is that she needs him, but that he no longer needs her._   

 

* * *

  

**_July 1, 2007_ **

**_Lake Huron, Ontario_ **

****

Her mother finds her sitting on the sand with her toes in the waves, chin resting on her knees, contemplating the ebb and flow of the tide. She and Scott had joined her family for their annual summer Canada Day sabbatical up to the cabin on the lake, and Tessa had been relishing the opportunity to bask in the warm sunshine and get lost in the rhythmic sounds of the water.

It’s soothing and somewhat eases the ache in her heart. All that's missing is for Scott to come sit with her and hold her like he used to, then everything would be just about perfect.

But that probably won’t happen. They’ve started to ease back into a physical relationship finally, thanks to the unavoidable desire that comes from sharing a bed night after night - nineteen year old boys can only resist their very willing partner for so long. Not that Tessa minds in the slightest. Frankly, it's a relief that he still finds her desirable at all. But Scott still treats her like she’s made of glass. Glass that will break if he gets too close or holds on too tight.

Sometimes, though, what Tessa really wants is to yell at him – scream that he’s the one breaking her piece by piece each time he reacts slowly to her advances or looks at her with those sad, haunted eyes – but she also doesn’t want to force him to do anything he’s uncomfortable with. He sees her differently now, and she’s trying to come to terms with that.

Although two nights ago he’d surprised her by snuggling up behind her in bed without asking first (delighting her to no end, because it meant he was getting comfortable being intimate again) and telling her a ridiculous knock knock joke that he'd heard at work, causing both of them to dissolve into fits of laughter, and then he’d kissed her. Hard and passionate and full of fire. It had been all too brief, but the way he’d looked at her afterwards gave her hope that maybe…  _maybe_ … they were finally on the road to being okay.

“There you are,” The shadow reaches her before her mom does, blocking out Tessa’s precious sunshine, and she’s grateful when Kate plops down gracefully onto the sand next to her – wedge sandals held high - giving the sun freedom to warm her skin again, “I’ve been looking for you.”

Tilting her head on its side, Tessa replies with a jaunty little, “What’s up?”

“I feel like it’s time we had a talk.” Kate says, her voice serious, but kind. Sand drifting through the gaps in her fingers as she repeatedly scoops it up, then lets it fall.  

“About what?”

“About this funk that you’re in," Brushing the sand sticking to her hand off on her leg, she reaches out and tucks a strand of Tessa's hair back into place behind her ear, "It needs to end.”

That catches Tessa's attention, forcing her to abandon the deliciously lazy sunny haze in her brain and sit up straight so that she can focus and look her mom square in the eyes, “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean. I’m worried about you. You’ve lost weight, you’re paler, you stay home whenever you’re not at work instead of going out with your friends like you used to do. I don’t think you’re handling things well.” 

Tessa shrugs off her mom's attempt at caressing her arm, anger and hurt beginning to boil underneath her skin, “I’m trying! It hasn’t exactly been easy.”

“I understand that, but I think you might be making a bigger deal out of this than the situation deserves.”

Shooting to her feet, kicking up clumps of sand as she does, Tessa blinks furiously down at her mother who stares back at her as if she's completely caught off guard by Tessa's reaction, "I had a miscarriage one week after my wedding and it threw all my life choices into question. That’s a pretty big deal. I’m sorry if I’m not  _over it_  as soon as you’d like me to be.”

“Yes, you did, and it was very sad," Kate acknowledges, moving to stand up as well, "But miscarriages are common, Tessa. I myself have had two because of APS – you have to learn to pick yourself up and move on. Not wallow for months on end. You’re a bright, beautiful, intelligent girl. You should be out there living life to the fullest.”

She reaches out to touch Tessa's cheek, but Tessa swats her hand away, "What do you mean you had two because of APS? You don’t have APS.”

It's as if her mother suddenly started speaking in Wookie or Klingon or one of those other made-up languages, for all that Tessa can understand the words coming out of her mouth right now. There's no way she could be saying what Tessa thinks she's saying. 

There's no way that she _knew_. 

“Yes I do. Where do you think you inherited it from?”

Her mom looks genuinely confused and it only makes Tessa angrier. 

“Wait… so you’re saying you knew I might have an autoimmune disease, and you didn’t say anything.” Tessa's hands ball into fists as she grinds her teeth together, fury rising inside her the likes of which she's never felt before. Betrayal searing through her heart. 

“No, I didn’t know," Kate raises her hands in defense, lightly shaking her head back and forth in denial, "I’m just saying that I wasn’t very surprised.”

“You knew it might at least be a possibility then, and you didn’t say anything. That's what you're telling me.”

“It’s only rarely passed on. Because you had no symptoms, I assumed that you were fine.” Kate attempts to explain, but Tessa scoffs - throwing her hands in the air. 

"I… you didn’t… you should have told me. You should have warned me! I can't believe you kept this from me!”

Kate's face quickly transitions from apologetic to stern, a lecture brewing behind her eyes, “Calm down. I didn’t know, and it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“This changes  _everything_! I could have been prepared! I could have taken extra precautions or the right medications! I could have-“ 

Tessa's words dissolve into helpless, furious splutters as she glares at the woman who she  _thought_  always had her best interests at heart. Who she'd sometimes had disagreements with, but had always assumed would be there for her. That underneath it all, they were on the same side. 

“What’s going on here?” Scott strolls up to them, coming to stand next to Tessa across from Kate, his sunglasses perched high up on his nose above a patch of white sunscreen he apparently forgot to work into the skin. 

“She knew, Scott. My mom knew I might miscarry.” Tessa explains, her voice practically a hiss as she keeps her glare fixed on her mother. 

“That’s not true.” Kate shoots back, vigorously shaking her head, "This is just a misunderstanding." 

“What?” Scott says at the same time, his eyes alternating back and forth between the two women in obvious confusion. 

“She has APS too, and she didn’t warn me.” 

The furrow in his brow relaxes as he transitions from uncertainty to hurt to rage, “Is that true, Kate?” Scott asks, his voice going cold and hard like steel. 

"I don’t see why I should have warned you about something I didn’t think would happen.” Kate argues, throwing her hands helplessly out to the side.

“But it  _did_ happen!” Tessa yells, her voice carrying over the waves and probably up into the cabin where the rest of her family can hear, but she doesn't care. Let everyone hear her. Let them know what her mother had done. 

“But I couldn’t have known that it would!”

Suddenly the sun, so wonderful only moments ago, is too bright and too hot. Garish, instead of golden, and Tessa needs to escape it. Needs to escape the presence of her personal Judas. The woman who had kissed her cheek and held her close in the days after the miscarriage, all the time hiding what she knew. 

“I have to get out of here. I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Tessa, honey, wait,” Kate reaches out to grab her elbow, but Tessa shrugs her off - reaching for Scott's hand instead. 

“Let’s go, Scott. We’re done here.” 

Scott nods and links their fingers together in a show of solidarity, letting her lead him back up the beach towards the house, both of them ignoring her mother’s pleadings to come back and talk it through. 

"The keys are in our room with our suitcases. Do you want to grab it all and take you back home?" He asks once they're standing on the patio, and Tessa nods - blinking back tears that threaten to fall.

"Yes. I want go home."

 

 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Scott asks haltingly, glancing at where she sits slumped against the passenger seat window, her arms folded tightly over her chest - fingernails digging into her ribcage in an attempt to stave off the inevitable waterworks that she knows are coming. 

"She lied, Scott." Tessa mutters, counting the yellow dotted lines in the middle of the highway as they disappear from view. 

"Yes, but-" 

"I never want to speak to her again." 

"She's your mom, Tess. I know you're hurt and mad, I am too, but you can't mean that." 

"I do."

And she finds as she says it that she  _does_  mean it. Because it's about more than just losing the baby - it's about losing Scott. None of this would be happening if her mother had told her years ago, or when she got pregnant, or before she got married (there were so many opportunities) that this might be a possibility. 

She lost her baby, is on the road to losing her husband, and now has lost her mother as well. 

She'll never forgive her mom for playing a role in this current state of disaster that is her life. For not warning her sooner that she could lose all her happy endings in the blink of an eye.  

 

* * *

  

**_October 8, 2007_ **

**_Moir Home, Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

Bellies full of turkey and stuffing and potatoes, all of the Moir boys had retired to the basement after washing the dishes to watch hockey and let out a few notches on their belts. Meanwhile, Tessa and Alma were baking up a large batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies while Celine Dion serenaded them from the old record player in the corner.

“How are you holding up, Tess?”

Alma's voice is tender and kind, but Tessa really wishes people would stop asking her that. After six months, just once, she’d like someone (other than Jordan) to treat her like a normal teenage girl and ask her about Justin Timberlake and Cameron Diaz splitting up or Britney Spears shaving her head.

“I’m fine. Just keeping busy with work.” She forces herself to sound bright and happy anyway, smiling warmly at Alma as she scoops out another ball of dough and places it on the cookie sheet.

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear that you’re staying occupied. I was sorry to hear about your falling out with your mother. I wish you two could make amends. I know Kate misses you." 

Her arms are warm and soft as they circle around Tessa's shoulders in a tight and too-brief embrace, and and Tessa relaxes into the hug. It's impossible to stay annoyed at Alma for longer than two seconds. 

"That... won't be happening. But thank you." 

"Well, you have me as a stand-in for as long as you need." She gives Tessa another tight squeeze before releasing her and returning to the task at hand, and Tessa can't resist leaning over and kissing her mother-in-law on the cheek in gratitude. 

"Thanks, Alma. That really means a lot." 

"Anytime, hon. You know how much we all love you."

"I know. I love you, too." 

Tessa pops one of the balls of dough in her mouth, savoring the blend of spices and pumpkin and chocolate as it explodes across her tongue. There's nothing quite like the taste of pumpkin in the fall. 

"And how are things with Scott?” 

The question takes her by surprise, and she nearly chokes on the cookie dough before struggling to respond, “Um… it's fine. He’s been pretty busy with the new school year, but that’s good. He likes it that way.”

"Yes, he’s really thriving this semester – it’s wonderful to see him applying himself and working so hard.”

Tessa’s known Alma almost all her life, she knows there isn’t a mean bone in the woman’s body, but she still can’t help but feel like it’s a pointed comment directed at her. Because Tessa is  _not_ applying herself or working hard, and she knows it. Everybody knows it. 

She should be right there at school with him, but back when she was still pregnant she'd elected to take the first semester off to stay home with the baby, and by the time the miscarriage happened it had been too late to change her decision. 

“I’m proud of him.” She says earnestly in a quiet voice, scooping the first sheet of finished cookies off of the tray and onto a cooling rack. 

"We all are. We’re proud of you too. You’ll get back into school when you’re ready,” Alma reaches over and squeezes her arm before taking a new tray over to the oven, and Tessa inexplicably feels tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

_Proud of what_? It's been a long time since she did anything to make people proud of her. 

“Do you want to go tell the boys they can have some cookies now?”

“Sure.”

“Watch out for Joe. He can beat those boys in a race up the stairs for my cookies any day. It’s pretty impressive what the proper motivation can do.”

Tessa attempts a giggle and heads downstairs – passing the familiar Moir family photos that line the wood paneled wall, including the more recently added ones of her and Scott's wedding, and one adorable picture of Scott giving her a piggyback ride after the graduation ceremony (something that had made both of them grin like they used to) – and finds Charlie and Joe sitting on the couch. Both men with legs crossed, one foot resting on the opposite knee, and the same scrutinizing expression on their faces as they watch the game.

Like father, like son. The similarities are almost enough to make her laugh.

“Hey guys, Alma says the cookies are ready.”

That gets their attention immediately, and the words are barely out of her mouth before Joe is racing up the stairs – actually full on shoving Charlie behind him, despite his son’s accusations of foul play – and Tessa does laugh then. Just something small, but it feels nice all the same.

She wanders down the hallway towards the boys’ bedrooms to find Scott and Danny, stopping when she hears voices outside of Danny’s door. Her hand rests on the doorknob, intending to interrupt them, but then she hears what they’re saying.

“I just feel weird about it,” Scott says quietly, “Tess still had to take the semester off and I didn’t want to push her into finding a way around the delay or taking online classes, but now I feel like I’m living two lives. I hate it.”

“It must be hard for her – I’m sure this isn’t where she expected to be right now.” Danny replies, his voice kind and full of understanding, and Tessa's heart swells with affection for the man who's practically her own brother.   

“I know it's hard.  _God_ , I know. But I can’t seem to… connect with her like we used to. There’s this wall there that I don't know how to cross - which I think might be my own fault. And meanwhile, I feel like my life is marching forward at a rapid pace and I’m trying to keep up with that and do well in my classes and make new friends, without leaving Tessa behind, and I just can’t figure out the balance between everything. I don't know how to make it all work.” Scott's voice cracks with despair, and Tessa's heart cracks along with it. 

“You will. Just talk to Tessa about it. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I don’t want to add my burdens to hers.”

“Isn’t that what marriage is all about? Sharing the burden?”

“Sure, normal marriages, but Tess has enough on her mind without stressing about my problems too.”

“I'm not sure any marriage is _normal_. Do you think you are though? Leaving her behind, that is.”

"Sometimes. Sometimes we have these moments, you know? Where it’s like it was  _before_ , and I feel like everything will be okay, but then all I can think about is-“

Tessa spins around on her heel and walks away. She doesn’t want to hear any more. She hadn't realized that he’d recognized the same problem she had: that they’re not on the same page anymore. Things have changed too much. She’s still stuck in the last chapter of book one, and Scott’s moved on to the middle of the sequel.

Although how he could possibly think that's his fault, she doesn't know. Sure, he'd been a little withdrawn, and yeah, he'd hurt her feelings a few times over the past few months with his reticence, but she doesn't really blame him for that. 

It isn’t right. None of it’s right. And Tessa hates that he feels like she’s holding him back. That isn’t how marriage or relationships, or even friendships, are supposed to be.

She's supposed to be helping him become his best self. 

 

Which is why, later that night after Scott has gone to bed, she pulls out her clunky laptop and powers up the website for McGill University, finding the transfer application and filling it out with a rapidity that would impress even that fastest typists.

It’s a crazy whim, one she probably won’t act on, but it’s an  _option -_ something to consider, if they even accept her application. 

She can’t be the one who holds Scott back from the life he wants. The life he  _deserves_.

She won’t.  

If that means moving away for a while to give him space to grow and excel without her acting as the proverbial ball and chain, then maybe that's what she'll do. 

 

* * *

  

**_November 22, 2007_ **

**_The Trailer, Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

The orange glow from the streetlamp down the road coming in through the open curtains is the only light, along with the TV, preventing the living room from being bathed in complete darkness. Sometime between  _Jeopardy_ and  _Survivor_  Tessa had fallen asleep on the couch, sagging sideways - her body subconsciously molding itself around the lumps in the cushions that she's grown used to now - while Tallulah rests peacefully on the floor in front of her.

It's exactly the kind of Thursday evening Tessa likes, especially when dealing with cramps, and she would be totally content to keep sleeping if there wasn't a shrill ringing sound coming from her phone and disturbing her slumber. 

Grumbling loudly and cursing the inventors of technology, she digs around uselessly for a minute before finding the offending device shoved somewhere in between the cushions - apparently having fallen out of her pants (girl's jeans seriously need to have deeper pockets).

Fumbling around, Tessa eventually manages to accept the call, not bothering to check who it is first, and is surprised to hear the distant sounds of a girl's slightly slurred voice. It sounds like she's talking to someone else in the room, not Tessa, and she pulls the phone away from her ear to check the caller I.D. 

Scott's name flashes across the screen, and she huffs out a laugh. He must have butt-dialed her by accident at the American Thanksgiving party he's currently attending. 

He'd been invited by his friend Sam in his business class, a transfer student from California, to join in the celebrations with a few of the other American ex-pats. He'd asked Tessa about ten times that afternoon to come along, but she hadn't been feeling well so she'd waved him out the door with a kiss and a promise to take care of herself while he was gone. 

She props the phone on her shoulder and is just about to yell his name to get his attention when she hears his voice. 

"Thanks for the beer." 

"No problem," The girl's voice replies, "So... you mentioned Tessa couldn't make it tonight?" 

"Nah, she wasn't feeling very well." 

"I'm beginning to think this wife of yours doesn't exist."

The girl giggles, an annoyingly high-pitched bubbly sound, and Scott laughs, "She definitely does." 

"Oh yeah? She's not just a fabrication so that you can keep refusing to go out with me?" 

"No. I wouldn't do that. Tess exists, she's just not very social."

It stings to hear him say that. She  _is_ social, just not with people she doesn't already know. And just who is this person who's apparently been hitting on him?

"Hmmm... but if she didn't exist. If you weren't part of this _My Teenage Wedding_ episode, would you say yes to a date then? I promise I'm _very_ good company." 

"Stop, Sam. You've had too much to drink." 

"Maybe you haven't had enough." 

Tessa slams the off button on her phone  _hard_  and throws it away from her, not feeling the least bit sorry as it skids across the carpet - catching Tallulah's attention. The dog watches the phone, then turns to look at Tessa as if to say  _girl, what on earth are you doing?_

"He never said Sam was a girl," Tessa murmurs out loud, semi-addressing the faithful companion at her side (she swears sometimes Tallulah understands her). In all their conversations about his classes and his new group of friends in his study group, he hadn't mentioned Sam being a woman once. 

_What does it mean - that he kept it a secret?_ _And that she's apparently been trying to date him all this time?_

Objectively, she knows he wouldn’t cheat on her. He’s not that kind of guy and she trusts him implicitly. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a little interested in this other girl. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t  _want_ to kiss her back or accept her advances. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t secretly resent having to come home to his eighteen year old  _wife_ instead of going out on new and exciting dates with new and exciting women. 

Women who aren't tainted by loss and followed by shadows everywhere they go. 

And he deserves that, if he wants it.

As much as it breaks her heart – the very idea shattering it into a million irreparable pieces across that old lumpy couch – she knows that they aren’t working. This marriage isn’t working.

They’re stagnating and refusing to admit it out of loyalty to each other and what they once had.

Tessa loves him.  _God_ , does she love him. Loves him so much she feels it in the core of her bones. But Scott deserves to go to university and have crazy college experiences and make new friends and meet new girls and be happy. Deserves to live his life without this black cloud in the shape of her hanging over him all the time.

What was it they said in  _A Walk to Remember_ (a movie Scott had rented for them to watch again just last week - one of his favorites): "Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous, love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish."

The selfish thing to do would be to stay and keep Scott for herself, and that wouldn't be right. 

So Tessa does the only thing that makes sense.

Wiping the thick tears off of her cheeks, she reaches for her laptop and opens up the email she'd received last week notifying her of her acceptance to McGill University starting in January. She hadn’t really planned on doing anything with it – thinking of it as more of a pipe dream. A  _what if?_

A back-up plan in case things felt damaged beyond repair. 

But now it seems like the only logical answer.

Scott is far too noble, too loyal, to do what needs to be done, so she’ll have to do it. It’s what will be best for both of them in the long run, he'll see.

Tessa clicks on the link in the email that takes her to the webpage where she’s supposed to state whether she will accept or decline the offer, and – taking a shaky breath, her fingers trembling – clicks on the button to  _accept_.

Then she gets up and finds her phone and calls the only person she can.

"Jordan? I need your help." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this chapter is from Tessa's point of view, we don't get to explore what Scott's motivations are, but basically he listened to Mrs. Campbell's (BAD) advice and is trying to give Tessa space and time - and in doing so ends up giving her too much of both and making her feel abandoned and like he doesn't want her anymore. He DOES (desperately), but, well, teenagers aren't exactly known for effective communication and he's terrified of messing up or pressuring her to recover faster than she's ready for. 
> 
> Also, when I started this AU (Coming Home to You) it was not my intention to turn Kate into a "villain" - for lack of a better word - sometimes characters go unexpected places. My apologies to the REAL Kate Virtue, who I'm sure is a lovely woman and wonderful mother.


	21. December 31, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more day before the dawn. 
> 
> Or: The one where Tessa leaves.
> 
> Rating: E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press our bodies together now  
> Fake forgiveness and take the bow  
> You swear that you love me still  
> You do
> 
> \- Please Don't Leave Me Like This, Edward & Jane

** nothing aches quite like goodbye **

****

**_December 31, 2007_ **

**_The Trailer, Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

The last day dawns much like every other wintry day in Ilderton. It's not snowing, but Tessa can tell through the gap in the curtains that it's still a frozen tundra, and the chill in the bedroom that has her burrowing further under the blankets gives away just how cold the temperature must be outside. She'd be willing to bet a hundred dollars that it isn't above zero degrees. 

Overall, indistinguishable and relatively mundane. Nothing in the weather or atmosphere to set it apart or mark its significance. Nothing except the sorrow weighing heavy inside of Tessa’s heart as she lays quietly in Scott’s arms staring at the dark sky – refusing to move or acknowledge the inevitability of the oncoming morning.

New Year’s Eve 2007. It’s amazing how much can change in a year.

Behind her Scott sleeps peacefully, blissfully unaware of what she's thinking or what's to come, his chest rising and falling against her back in a steady rhythm, and Tessa rolls over slowly so that she can look at him. Resting her head on his arm and taking the opportunity to memorize his features one last time.

She doesn’t know when she’ll be able to do this again, if ever, and so she can’t resist the impulse to trace along his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, and around his lips. Moving her fingers excruciatingly slowly so that she can savor each millisecond. When she's lying alone in her dorm room at McGill she wants to be able to close her eyes and recreate every piece of him. 

Scott stirs when her hand reaches his collarbone, lazily blinking away the last vestiges of sleep and gradually focusing his eyes on her.

For a second Tessa worries that he's going to react like he usually does when he finds them tangled up together like this - scooting backwards onto his side of the bed and putting space in between them. But when he catches her staring the corner of his mouth tilts up and he surprises her by hauling her in closer – nuzzling his nose in her hair after tucking her head underneath his chin.

“Why are you awake?” His voice is thick and scratchy and Tessa wishes desperately that she could record it and take it with her and play it on repeat in the mornings before class. 

The way it feels to have him close like this. To have his arms around her again without any trace of hesitancy or uncertainty or doubt. To be able to bury her face in his chest and breathe him in like she's been longing to do for months. It almost feels like old times. Like nothing has changed. 

Like it doesn't have to end. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She whispers, her own voice full of unshed tears.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” His words are slurred and his eyelids begin to droop again even as his fingers slip underneath her shirt and begin tracing gentle patterns up and down her spine, and Tessa shudders at the intimacy of it - inching forward even closer to him.

_How can I give this up?_

“Just you,” She presses her lips into the hollow of his throat. Doing it again when he practically purrs in response.

She can have this, right? Let herself partake of him, one last time? Surely leaving them both with one last happy memory is a kindness, not a sin?

“What _about_ me?”

The smile is evident in his voice, a trace of teasing there that she's missed, and Tessa takes that as encouragement to continue.

“How soft your skin is right here,” She kisses the freckles at the base of his throat, and his hand tightens its grip on her ribs reflexively, “The way it feels to have your arms around me. The way you smell. How your hair looks all rumpled with sleep in the morning.”

_How much I’m going to miss you_.

She punctuates each statement with a kiss across every inch of him that she can reach in her current position, trying to burn the feeling onto her lips.

“You sound like you’re making a catalogue,” He chuckles, kissing her forehead, and Tessa can’t stop the three or four tears that leak out from the corner of her eyes onto his bicep.

“T? Are you crying?” He leans back to look at her as soon as they hit, fully awake and appalled, “What’s wrong?”

He wipes her tears away with his thumb, and Tessa sniffles loudly – burying her face back into his chest and holding him as tight as she can manage with one arm, the other pressed between them against his heart.

“Nothing. Just being sentimental. End of the year reflections, I guess.”

Scott hesitates for a second, and she can tell he wants to say something. Maybe challenge her answer. But instead he says, “As long as you’re not sad…?”

“...No, I’m not sad.” It’s a lie, but a harmless one. She can’t afford to be honest right now – not if she’s going to go through with her plans to leave early the next morning with Jordan for Montreal. Although sometimes she hopes he'll figure it out and lock her up so that she can't go (even if she knows he never would). 

“I hate to see you cry. What would make you happy, Tess?”

His voice is so quiet, yet so earnest in its supplication, that it nearly has her crying again. 

_Turning the clocks back to last year_ , she thinks mournfully, _that would make me happy_. If only it were possible to rewind and do everything all over again. There are so many different choices that she would make. 

Scott's hand is soft and gentle as he caresses her cheek, his fingers stroking around the ridge of her ear before gliding across her jaw, and Tessa knows one thing that would make her happy that he could actually give her right now, if he's willing. It’s probably selfish and wrong, but, well, nobody ever accused her of being perfect.         

“Will you make love to me?”

It’s the first time she’s ever blatantly asked, and she knows if the room wasn’t so dimly lit he would be able to see her blush at being so brazen (her confidence being one more thing that's changed in the last year), but Scott smiles and kisses her sweetly.

“Sure, T. I’d love to.”

He sits up and begins to tug his shirt off, following the predictable, basic pattern of events he'd set the last few months regarding their sex life, but Tessa stops him.

“Slow.” She whispers the command, and Scott looks at her for a long time, trying to read her inscrutable expression, before nodding and following her lead - letting Tessa swing a leg over his lap so that she can take over undressing him. 

She starts with his shirt, dragging it up his body and kissing his sternum - right over his heart - once she's tossed the garment over the side of the bed. Her shirt follows after his, Scott's hands moving much quicker than her own, but Tessa stops them from going any further for a moment by hugging him. Relishing in the feeling of all his skin pressed against hers as she tucks her face in between his neck and shoulder. 

Scott uses the moment to run his hands up and down her back, occasionally lightly scratching her and sending shivers through her body, before kissing her shoulder and whispering, "It's freezing. You're going to catch a cold if we sit like this much longer." 

Regretfully, she knows that he's right so she climbs off him so that they can each remove their underwear and slip back underneath the blankets - lying on their sides in the same position they were in earlier. Only this time, there's nothing between them and Tessa is free to press her naked body against his and kiss every inch of skin that she can - from his chest to his arms to his abs. 

It feels reverent and sacred and she tries to commit the minutiaeof every last touch to her memory.

It's clear from his expression, and the way that he keeps pulling back to look in her eyes periodically, that Scott's a little confused by her behavior, and she knows he can tell something is up, but he goes along with it anyway.

“Do you want to be on top?” He asks eventually. When their bodies are fully entwined under the thin white sheet and heavy duvet, lips pressing together over and over as if they can find absolution in each other's kisses. In the quiet dark of their bedroom, time feels like an irrelevant concept. Nothing exists anymore but them and their bodies and their desire.

“No. You.”

She pulls on his ribs so that he gets the idea and rolls on top of her, then hugs him tight to her body so that she can feel his entire weight pressed against her from sternum to knees instead of allowing him to prop himself up on his elbows like he normally would. Nearly crushing herself with him. 

His length is pressed up against her thigh, and all it takes is for her to widen her legs a bit more and then he's there - sliding inside inch by inch and making her feel whole again. Not for the first time, Tessa feels infinitely grateful that she’d started taking the pill after the miscarriage. She doesn’t want any barriers between them. Not now. Not today.

Not on their last day.

“Tess, are you sure? Can you even breathe like this?” Scott struggles to prop his head up high enough to see her face once he's completely inside her, concern evident in his eyes, but Tessa assuages his worries with a firm kiss.

“ _Yes_. Like this. Please.”

He gives her a tentative nod and begins to move as best he can in the limited space she's created, and Tessa helps him out by moving her hips in time with his. It's not as hard or as fast as they might usually go, but it feels deeper, more connected, and Tessa can't resist digging her nails into his shoulder blades to create one more connection. As if by sheer force of will she can hold them together against the rising tide. 

She cries again when she comes – Scott’s face buried into his spot in the crook of her neck, his hair catching her tears, their bodies sweaty and practically sticking together – and she wishes she could dissolve into him and never leave this moment.

In the dark she can pretend.

“I have to move, Tess.” He says eventually, kissing her between each word, then rolling off of her – intending to retrieve a wet towel from the bathroom so that they can both get cleaned up (sex, they've discovered, is so much messier without a condom) – but Tessa gets up and follows him instead.

“Let’s…” She pauses, avoiding his searching gaze by reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. The last time she’d tried this she’d been horrifically rejected, but that was six months ago. Hopefully things are a little different now.

“Let’s take a shower?” Her eyes meet his, nervous but hopeful, and Scott gives her a brilliant smile in return.

“I like that idea.”

He doesn’t let go of her hand as he leads her into the small bathroom and turns on the water – checking the temperature periodically with his free hand as it heats up.

“Ladies first?” He gestures towards the tiny space, and Tessa steps inside -  thrilled when she feels him follow close behind, shutting the door behind them and pressing his body against hers without hesitation.

It’s entirely different from how it was in June, and Tessa can’t help but wonder if he’d responded like this then, would she be getting ready to say goodbye now?

They don’t even bother to pretend that they’re in there to get clean. Scott wastes no time brushing the hair away from the back of her neck and trailing kisses up and down her spine and across her shoulders while Tessa plants her hands on the tile for support as the hot water rushes over them.

His mouth moves down, down, down as he sinks to his knees behind her, kissing a line above her ass before gripping her hips and spinning her around. It isn't exactly what she'd had in mind for their shower, but when he leans forward and runs his tongue between her folds, any resistance she'd had dissapears down the drain with the water. 

His gaze stays steady on her face as he goes down on her, one hand supporting her ass and the other expertly playing with one of her breasts, and it’s too much. Feels too good. It's unbearable. But Tessa fights her body's instinct to let her head fall back or look away. She wants every moment of this seared into her brain. Her skin. Her heart.

It doesn’t take him long to get her close to the edge, not with how well he knows her body, but Tessa grips his hair and pulls him away before she can come.

“Tess?” Scott's brow wrinkles as he looks up at her, already leaning back in to finish the job, but she doesn't want that. Doesn't want this to end too soon.

"Not yet.” She breathes, tugging just enough to get him to stand up again, “I want to reciprocate.”

He hasn't let her do this since before April, so she's expecting it when he shakes his head and says, “You don’t have to.“

“I _want_ to.” She insists, her voice brokering no room for argument, and drops to her knees before he can stop her. The hard tile floor is uncomfortable and there's so little room her feet are squished up against the wall, but she doesn't care. This is all about Scott. 

_Don't forget me_ , she thinks, and takes him in her mouth.

It's clear that Scott has no qualms about looking away – his head falling back against the wall with a loud _thunk!_ almost the second she wraps her lips around him - and Tessa can't help the giggle that escapes her at the sight. Clearly, for all his protesting, he'd missed this. 

The sound reverberates through him, and his hips shudder with the effort it takes him not to thrust into her mouth, and Tessa grins - bringing her right hand up to join her mouth while reaching around to scratch up and down the back of his thigh with her left. 

She can tell from the way his chest starts moving erratically that he's getting close - one more thing to commit to memory before the day is over.

“Tess. Tess, wait,” It’s his turn then to push her away, and she looks up at him with a pout – her hand still wrapped around him and lightly pumping. “Together. I want it to be together.”

Scott leans down and grabs her by the elbows, pulling her up so that she’s standing again, and kisses her hard on the mouth. “Okay?”

His eyes are dark and hooded and heat floods between her legs as the steam swirls around them and fogs up the glass. 

“Okay.” She agrees with a heavy whisper, turning around and pressing herself into the tile, “Is this alright?”

She wants to feel him pushing up against her again. Wants him to encase her body with his against the wall where she can’t escape.

“Fuck yes. You’re perfect.”

She’s absolutely _not_ perfect, but when he steps in close in the tight space, forcing her world to narrow down to just him, and leans up against her – pushing inside her slowly and reaching between her chest and the wall to possessively grab onto one of her breasts – she can almost pretend that she is.

Can almost pretend that everything is perfect and nothing has to change.

_I love you_ , she thinks desperately as he thrusts in and out, his lips everywhere on her skin, _I love you, I love you, I love you_. An endless litany of adoration even as her spoken pleas devolve into a cacophony of _yes, more, harder_.

She wants him to mark her. Wants his hands to leave bruises on her skin that she can poke and prod later when she’s in Montreal and pretend he’s still there. 

The hand not on her breast slides down the front of her body, tugging sharply on her bellybutton piercing as he nips at her shoulder, before finding her clit, and Tessa grunts a stuttered _yes_ at the way it pulls something primal inside of her.

That’s his mark, isn’t it? An impulse purchase when she was barely seventeen that was intended to be a sign of his promise to her. A physical manifestation of their love. Now it will be a sign of her commitment to him. Whatever happens, wherever their paths may lead, she’ll never take it off. She’ll carry it with her like a brand forever more. His brand. Bruises may fade and kisses evaporate, but that little silver piercing will remain.

For emphasis, she reaches down and drags his slick fingers back up to her bellybutton and holds them over the thin metal balls, and when she comes – gasping and breathless – she digs her nails into her own skin between his fingers around it to seal the promise.

 

 

“I have to go to work," Scott whispers into her shoulder a little while later, spooning her on the couch while they watch Looney Tunes reruns on the TV, blankets piled on top of them to ward off the chill, "I promised Mom that I’d take a shift at the arena today."

“I know.” Tessa replies regretfully. It had been a perfect morning, but she'd always known it would have to end. The sun is much higher in the sky now, demanding not to be ignored, and she still has clothes to pack and a letter to write. Really, she should be grateful that Alma decided not to close the arena for the holiday.

“And then I told Eric and Chiddy I’d meet them at the pub for drinks. I promise I won’t stay too long. I’ll be home in time to kiss you at midnight," He pauses to kiss underneath her ear, where her hair is still damp, and Tessa helplessly presses back into him in return, "I haven’t forgotten that the first person you encounter in the new year, and the type of encounter, sets the tone for the rest of the year.” He winks at her and kisses her again, on the mouth this time, before climbing off of the couch and patting Tallulah once on the head.

Tessa watches him put on his coat and boots and sighs, “Have fun tonight. Don’t worry about me.”

“You could always come, you know. They want you there too.” Scott turns around, a hopeful lilt in his voice at the end of the sentence, and Tessa's heart thumps painfully inside her chest. Standing there in his big poofy coat, asking her to join him, he looks nine years old instead of twenty. Just an innocent kid with a big heart asking her to play Red Rover at recess.

The image fucking  _hurts_.  

“Not tonight. I’ve got too much to do to get ready for school.” Tessa pulls the words out of her like sutures, forcing herself not to wince or cry. 

“Okay. I'll see you later then," He saunters over and kisses her once more for good measure, his lips lingering on hers as he murmurs, "You’re gonna love Western, T." 

She might, if that was the school she was referring to, but she keeps her lips sealed and accepts his farewell kiss without correcting his mistake. 

"Have a good day at work." She says instead, and then - just as he's about to close the door behind him - follows it with a whispered, "I love you," that she isn't sure he hears. 

 

The rest of her day is spent boxing up the things she’ll be taking with her to Montreal, feeling gloomy and wiping away any tears that manage to break through her defenses. It's mostly just clothes, shoes, and jewelry that she'll be taking. All of the supplies she’ll need for her dorm room she plans on buying once they reach Montreal, since it wouldn't be fair to take anything away from Scott. 

She leaves the Blue Jays hat hanging from the closet door and a few sweaters that she can’t fit into any of her boxes, before heading over to the dresser and picking up her jewelry box. One of the drawers pops open as she moves it and a little wooden heart falls out.

The necklace tiny thirteen year old Scott had made her for their fifth anniversary. She can almost hear his voice again, as if he’s still in the room with her, saying, “Fifth anniversaries are all about wood, so I’m taking you to see _Into the Woods_.”

Only a timely phone call from Jordan saves her from breaking down into an ugly mess on the floor.

“Hey, Tess. I’m outside – do you need help bringing out the boxes?”

They’d agreed that Jordan would swing by today with her Honda CR-V so that they could load up Tessa’s stuff while Scott was out of the house, also saving time in the morning before their long drive to Montreal. Jordan had told Kate that she needed to head back to work in Toronto a few days early to provide a cover story for why she'd be missing the annual family tobogganing extravaganza, and Tessa still hadn't reconciled with her mother so nobody would be expecting her to show up. 

“Yeah, but there’s only a couple. I’ll bring them all to the front door so it's easier to take them to the car.”

She holds the necklace up to her lips for a moment, closing her eyes, before slipping it back into its rightful place in the drawer of the jewelry box and finishing taping up the big cardboard boxes containing most of her worldly possessions. 

She briefly considers packing up the photo albums in the living room, but then decides against it. Taking them to McGill would be too painful and potentially bring up awkward conversations with whoever her new roommate will be, and Scott deserves a chance to shred them if he wants to after he discovers what she's done. 

“Still feeling confident about this?” Jordan grunts as she shoves one of the boxes into the back of her car.

“No, but I know it’s the right choice.” Tessa huffs back, balancing a large box on her knee while she waits for Jordan to shuffle a few things around and make room for it. 

“And you still haven’t said anything to Scott?”

It’s clear from the look on her face and the tone of her voice that Jordan very much disapproves – they’ve had this argument enough times in the past month for it to be obvious her opinion hasn't changed – but Tessa remains steadfast in her decision.

“No. He’d just try to convince me to stay. It’s better this way.”

“Well, that’s not true, and he's going to be hurt a million times more by you blindsiding him with this, but whatever,” She holds up her hands in defense, “I’m done fighting you on it.”

“Thank you.”

“So I’ll be back in the morning at seven sharp to pick you up, right?” 

“Right. Thank you again for doing this, Jo.”

“Hey, what are sisters for if not to be your getaway driver?” Jordan says with a small smile, and Tessa pulls her big sister in for a tight hug. 

“Seriously. Thank you. I know you don’t agree with it, but I promise it’s what’s best for him. For both of us.”

“If you say so, Tess.” Jordan replies with a long sigh, giving her an extra squeeze before stepping backwards towards the driver's side of the car, “I’ll see you in the morning if you haven't changed your mind.”

"I won't. I'll see you in the morning." 

 

Tessa walks back inside as Jordan's car disappears, a heavy weight in each step that makes her nearly trip going up the stairs. Objectively the house doesn't really look any different, but it feels so much emptier now.

Rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth, Tessa sits down at the kitchen table with a blank piece of paper and a pen, trying to figure out just exactly what she’s going to say in her letter to Scott.

Her plan is to get up early (he’s a morning person, but after a night of drinking - she bought champagne for them to drink together when he gets home - he should be out like a light until at least eight) and slip out without him noticing, leaving behind a letter of explanation.

But she has no fucking clue what to say. For some reason, all she can think about is that night in October 2004 when he taught her about Cassiopeia. The constellation she’s since come to think of as _theirs_. She knows she’ll never be able to look at it again without thinking of him and the star he’d named after them.

Tallulah trots over and rests her chin on Tessa’s knee, her eyes wide and questioning, and pain lances through her heart. In all of this, she’d been trying _not_ to think about the other faithful companion she’d have to leave behind.

There’s just no way she could take a dog with her to McGill, no matter how much she wants to. The rules for the freshman dorms clearly stated a strict No Pets policy, and when Tessa had emailed the RA to see if there was any possibility of some sort of waiver, the woman had practically laughed in her face (as much as you can laugh over text).

“I’m sorry, girl. I’m so, so sorry.”

Sliding to the kitchen floor, Tessa wraps her arms around the gorgeous German Shepherd and holds her close. Tallulah seems to understand what’s happening, and that Tessa needs this, because she stands steady – her head resting on Tessa’s shoulder – and even reaches up at one point to put her paw on Tessa’s leg.

“I’ll come back. I promise I’ll come back and see you again. And in the meantime, you’ll be happy with Scott. You know he’ll take good care of you. He...” She stutters, tears running unbidden down her cheeks, "He loves you." 

Suddenly it’s all too much, the prospect too overwhelming, and Tessa sobs, “I can’t do this. I can’t go.”

It’s too hard. How can she leave everything behind? The only world she’s ever known? She can’t.

When Scott gets home, she’ll tell him everything.

When he gets home, they’ll figure out a way to fix all this.

_He’ll come home tonight, we’ll talk, and I won’t go with Jordan in the morning_.

 

But he doesn’t come home.

 

Tessa waits and waits and waits. One eye on the New Year’s Eve countdown on the CBC and one on the front door, the bottle of champagne resting on the coffee table next to their two nicest glasses, but he never walks through it.

Eventually, as the room grows darker and colder and the clock chimes two a.m., Tessa resigns herself to the fact that he must have had too much to drink and fallen asleep at Chiddy’s or Eric’s or wherever the boys ended up.

And that’s it then, isn’t it? A sign. He’d said himself how you spend midnight sets the tone for the year.

Her resolve strengthens at the reminder that he really should be free to live this kind of carefree life if he wants to, and so Tessa brushes her teeth and puts on her pajamas and climbs into bed with Tallulah and hugs her precious companion close until the morning light comes, and when Jordan shows up with coffee and a reassuring smile, Tessa gets in the car.

 

* * *

  

**_January 1, 2008_ **

**_Radford Home, Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

Scott is never drinking again. The throbbing, inescapable pain in his head the mornings after a night out is just not worth it, even if it had felt nice to cut loose with the guys at The King Edward. They had successfully hustled a few out-of-towners at the bar playing pool – winning a sweet hundred dollars apiece for their efforts - and then blown a good portion of that on more alcohol.

Rubbing the gunk out of his eyes, Scott takes stock of his surroundings – the semi-familiar floral wallpaper, a beige couch that matches the one he's currently laying supine on, a mahogany grand piano – _Eric’s house_.

“Shit!”

He shoots up off the cushions at a speed that makes his head spin, nearly tripping on Chiddy who had passed out on the carpet next to him, and checks the clock on the wall.

**_7:30_ **

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, fucking shit_.

He’d completely forgotten his promise to be home by midnight, and Tessa is definitely going to kill him. All that talk about being home in time to kiss her and set the right tone for the new year, and he’d ended up spending it drunk at the bar instead of with her. And after they'd had such an amazing morning, too. The best one in months. 

He's really fucked it up this time.

He finds his coat in the front hall smelling of cheap booze and nachos, and fumbles around for his keys. His truck is probably still at the pub (he vaguely remembers stumbling home with the guys when they’d all realized they were too drunk to drive), so he digs around for his boots before taking off at a run.

It’s not a pleasant sensation, running with a hangover, but he doesn’t care. The pain helps wake him up and focus on what he’s going to say to Tess.

_Grovel_ , he decides _, grovel and then promise to do whatever she wants for the next month_.

There aren’t any signs of life inside the trailer when he gets there, wheezing from the effort of running while its below freezing outside, no lights on or open curtains - which Scott takes as a good sign. Hopefully she’s still asleep and he can start making amends by preparing the best fucking breakfast in bed she’s ever had.

Unlocking the front door as carefully as he can, he steps inside - the door swinging open on a pitch black room that seems too cold ( _did the heater go out again?_ ) - and he nearly trips over Tallulah, who for some reason is lying right by the front door with the most pathetic look on her face. Something she only ever does when she’s waiting for Tessa to come home.

“Hey girl. What are you doing out here?”

Scott kicks off his shoes and pads across the room, leaving the lights off, to retrieve a glass of water and some Tylenol – glancing over at the dog that’s remained steadfastly by the door instead of following him like she normally would.

Odd.

He finishes the glass and fills it up again, retrieving the box of pancake mix from the cupboard and digging around for the bag of chocolate chips that should be in there as well, if Tessa hasn't pilfered all of them. He’d bought some strawberries a couple days ago, so altogether he’s confident he can at least impress her with breakfast.

But when he turns back around he notices a neatly folded paper on the table propped up against the sugar jar. Maybe Tessa went out for an early morning walk and left him a note? It would be unusual, but nothing about the past year has been _usual_ so…

He can see her handwriting spelling out his name on the front, so he picks it up, unfolds it, and begins to read.

 

_Dear Scott,_

_It’s 3 a.m. and I can’t sleep. You should have been home hours ago, but I guess you were having fun with Chiddy and Eric. I hope so. I hope you’ll tell them goodbye for me._

_By the time you read this, I will be gone._

_I’ve been trying so hard to be okay. For you, for our families and friends, and for me, but the truth is I’m not okay. I haven’t been for a long time._

_I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t know who I am anymore or how my life got to this point. The girl staring back at me in the glass is a stranger now. I’ve spent the last eight months trying to figure out who she is and how she fits into this life, but there are no answers._

_Because the reality is, I don’t fit anymore, do I?_

_You fit. You’ve got your place in this world all figured out – at school, with friends (old and new), with your family. You have all these amazing people around you and an amazing life and there’s no room for me in it anymore._

_Which is why the best thing I can do for both of us is to leave. You don’t want to be married. Not really. You’re not ready for this kind of commitment, and neither am I. We were just two kids in love who were faced with an impossible choice, and we jumped without looking. It was stupid and naïve of us to think we could make this work. Especially after what happened._

_It broke us, Scott, and I know we tried to pretend that it didn’t, but the evidence of it has been all around us for months._

_I love you, but it’s because I love you that I can’t stay. This isn’t working, and it’s destroying us both. The only chance we have for a happy future is if I do what has to be done and leave._

_You’re young and have no idea what you want yet, but you deserve a chance to explore all of your options. I don’t know what I want either, but I know I won’t get it if I stay here. There’s nothing for me in Ilderton. Not now._

_We both deserve the chance to be free and allowed to live normal lives without being weighed down by tragedy or each other._

_What I'm really trying to tell you is that I have been accepted at McGill University in Montreal. It’s a good school and I think it can give me what I need – time away from Ilderton and everyone in it._

_When the time is right, I’ll come back home._

_I hope someday you will understand and forgive me._

_Love,_

_Tess_

 

The paper slips from Scott's fingers, falling back onto the table with far too much grace for the poison it contains, and he turns around to lean over the sink - throwing up the entire contents of his stomach in great heaves until all that's left is bile.

He doesn’t understand. What does she mean she's gone? That he doesn't want to be married? How could she think he doesn't know what he wants - all he's _ever_ wanted is her - how could she not know that? And he's not even sure he's ever  _heard_ of McGill, let alone that Tessa might want to go there. 

Somehow he manages to run down the hallway towards their bedroom, half-expecting her to be there waiting to reveal that the letter was some horrible prank to punish him for staying out all night, but it's as dark and empty as the rest of the house. The closet door, too old to close properly, is propped open and he can see all of the empty hangers inside where her clothes used to be.

His stomach rolls again, but there's nothing left to expel, and he crumples to the floor in pain. 

This can’t be happening.

This isn’t real.

She can’t have just…

 

Left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Feel free to yell at me in the comments or on Twitter (@gerber_pink)


	22. December 29, 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed and Scott isn't handling things well.
> 
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasted on the floor again and no one seems to mind  
> I can go back out and that would take up too much time  
> I’m still busy callin out your name wide eyed and face down on the pine  
> How I miss the colors of the leaves that grow in spring  
> And how you used to dance upon the rain and I would sing  
> How I'd give most anything to watch you twirl around for one more time  
> \- The Archer, Adam Melchor

**the shrapnel of my faith in you is cutting through my skin  
**

 

**_December 29, 2008_ **

**_The King Edward, Ilderton, Ontario_ **

****

The world seems so much better through the bottom of an empty whiskey glass. The amber liquid still sliding down his throat and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It smooths the rough edges, fades out the details, and its soporific effect leaves him feeling warm and sedated in a way that he craves after days spent in the icy arena and nights spent in a deserted bed. 

The conflagration spreads through his body at a rapid pace - burning away the pain, fogging up the memories, and numbing him to the ongoing nightmare that has been his life for the past year. 

His empty, bleak, fucked up life. 

Three hundred and sixty two days. Each one worse than the day before. Which is something he hadn't thought possible after the literal nightmare that was coming home on New Year's Day to find an empty trailer and a letter from a wife who had abandoned him. 

Not that he's been counting. His brain just does the math for him without any effort. A blessing and a curse because it means that no matter how much liquor he consumes, he can't lose track of just how many hours he's spent missing her, hating her, and loving her so much it makes him sick in equal measure (8,688, in case you were wondering). 

At first he had tried to keep to a routine. Go to school, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Attend mandatory weekly family dinners at his parent's house where her name hangs unspoken in the air above them like the blade of a guillotine. 

And it had worked for the first few months. He'd gone through the motions and managed to present to the world the appearance of a young man who was coping with his "separation" fairly well (or, at least, he thinks he did. But sometimes people would look at him a little too closely and he wondered if maybe he wasn't doing such a good job after all).

Sure, he'd lugged his heart around like a gory bomb had gone off inside of it inside his chest, and his limbs felt like they belonged to somebody else half the time, but he'd  _tried_. 

And week after week, like a blind, love-struck fool, he had expected Tessa to come walking back through the door. If not for Valentine's Day, then maybe St. Patrick's. If not St. Patrick's Day, then maybe Easter. If not Easter, then maybe spring break. And on, and on, and on. 

When the school year ended (he'd printed out the schedule for McGill and pinned it to his wall, like a fucking masochist), he'd sat anxiously on the front porch for three days waiting for her to come home for the summer. 

But she didn't come home, and Scott had spiraled. 

He'd deferred his fall semester at Western and fallen into a new routine. 

Wake up, feed the dog who asks him every day with her eyes when Tessa will be home, try to ignore the lancing pain in his chest at the sight of Tessa’s things, go to work, get drunk, stumble home, sleep, and try not to dream of her.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

In the last one hundred and twenty days, he can’t recall finishing any of them sober.

Scott used to think he had a good life, but he can count on one fingerless hand how many good days he’s had in 2008. It's a year he's only too glad to put behind him.

He downs the rest of the glass with a grimace (he's always preferred beer, but it just doesn't do the job), then gestures to the bartender for another.

There’s a Leafs game on tonight. With any luck it’ll distract him enough that he won’t obsess over what Tessa might be up to like he normally does.

_Did she have a good Christmas?_

_Has she made new friends?_

_Is she enjoying school?_

_What subjects is she studying?_

_Is she seeing someone?_

It’s that last thought in particular that has him downing the entirety of the new glass in one swallow. So much for any attempt at pacing himself tonight. He can already feel the sharp eyes of the owner, Paul, on his back - keeping a mental tally of how many drinks Scott has. He knows he'll cut him off eventually, like he always does, and Scott will stumble home and probably sleep on the couch. 

He sleeps on the couch a lot these days. The bed holds too many memories. 

A slim, yet muscular body slides into the stool next to him, raising a finger for a pint, and Scott can tell from the judgmental cloud that hangs over it that it’s Chiddy.

Chiddy with his perfect grades and new girlfriend and bright, happy future.

“What do you want?” Scott asks sullenly, swirling the melting ice around in his empty glass and considering ordering a double. He's going to need reinforcements if he'll be enduring any chastisement from the younger man. 

“How are you, Scott? I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

Chiddy's voice is carefully controlled, an attempt at casualness that they both know isn't real. It's been months since they had any conversation that didn't end in a fight. 

“Fan-fucking-tastic, buddy.” He replies, raising his glass to Chiddy in a mock salute. Ordering that double and daring him to say something.

"I don’t believe you.” Chiddy sighs, shaking his head – his morose expression setting Scott's nerves on edge and making him grit his teeth. He doesn't want  _pity_. 

“That’s your prerogative.”

“I’m worried about you," Chiddy turns on the bar stool to face him, and Scott can tell by the set of his shoulders that he's gearing up for an argument, "We’re all worried about you. Me, Eric, your family.”

“Nice to know you all talk about me behind my back.”

“Don’t be like that. It’s only because we love you.”

Scott huffs and takes a swallow, fixing his eyes on the Leafs game (turns out they're playing the Habs tonight, like some sick twisted joke), “Thanks, Chiddy, but you’re not my type.”

“Come on, Scott, be serious. I know Tessa didn’t come home for Christmas like we all hoped, but-“ He lays his hand on Scott's arm, but Scott violently shrugs it off. 

“Don’t.” He croaks, suddenly blinking back tears – anger building towards Chiddy for bringing her up, “Don’t talk about her.” He'd thought he'd made it explicitly clear to everyone that Tessa was a taboo topic.

“Someone has to. I know you’re hurting-“

“Stop. You _don’t_ know. How could you possibly have any idea what this feels like?”

Chiddy leans back, raising his hands in self-defense and rearranging his face into an apologetic expression that Scott knows he doesn't completely mean. Chiddy can be insufferable when he's convinced he's right.

“You’re right, I don’t. Because you won’t talk about it. You bottle it all up inside or drown it with an actual bottle here at the bar and don’t talk to any of us. It has to stop.”

"Shut up, Chiddy,” Scott growls in warning, gripping his whiskey glass so tightly that his knuckles have gone white. Part of him worries it might shatter. 

Part of him worries that it won't. 

Of course he hasn’t talked about it. Hasn’t explained. How does one explain the unexplainable? That one day you thought you were building your life with your soulmate and the next she was gone.

Vanishing into thin air to find herself _without_ you.

Because you weren't  _enough_ for her. 

“I won’t shut up. Someone needs to knock some sense into you before you end up killing yourself with alcohol or some stupid alcohol-induced decision.”

"Is that a threat, Chiddy? Because we both know you're too scrawny to-"

A fist connects with his jaw so fast he didn't even see it coming, knocking him clean off the bar stool and onto the floor. 

Above him, Chiddy stares at his own hand as if it had rebelled against him and he wants to cut it off for daring to be so offensive. 

"What the  _FUCK_!?" 

"That's it! Out of my bar. Get out!" 

Paul grabs Scott by the back of his shirt and physically lifts him off the floor, shoving him towards the exit with a strength surprising in a man his age, and Chiddy follows close behind without argument - ducking his head sheepishly as he walks past Paul and everyone else in the bar. It would almost be funny, if Scott's jaw didn't hurt so much and he wasn't so spitting mad. 

"What the fuck was that for?" He spins around and yells the second they're a few meters away from the building, where Paul no longer has jurisdiction and he's free to be as angry as he likes.

Chiddy trembles, but looks him straight in the eye as he says, "I said someone needed to knock some sense into you."  

It's obvious from the way that he's standing - fingers twitching, shoulders hunched over slightly - that he expects Scott to hit him back. And he wants to. Can feel the desire pumping through him to hit something. To expel all of his adrenaline in the way only vigorous physical activity can. To hit and punch and kick and never stop. 

But even in his anger, he doesn't want that something to be Chiddy. 

Instead he marches over to the nearest building - an ugly old cement thing that some kids had drawn shoddy attempts at cartoon penises on - and punches that instead with a guttural yell. 

It hurts like hell and his knuckles split open, but it also does the trick. 

"Satisfied?" Chiddy nods pointedly at his bloody hand, looking relieved that it was the wall and not his face, and Scott grumbles and shrugs one shoulder instead of replying.

"Can we talk now? Like two grown men, instead of neanderthals?" 

"What do you want me to say, Chiddy? That this fucking sucks? That I'm really fucking pissed off at the world?" 

_That I miss her so much some days it feels like it might kill me?_

"That's a good start," Chiddy replies, his voice solemn but his eyes full of sympathy, "I think you should go see Tessa, Scott. Go find her in Montreal. You won’t be right until you do and you know it.”

“She doesn’t want to see me.” Scott disagrees, cradling his hand to his chest and sliding down the wall onto a heap of snow. It's freezing on his ass - the jeans he's wearing doing nothing to ward off the chill - but he finds he doesn't really care. He shoves his hand into the frozen white powder, seeking the modicum of relief it provides. 

“You don’t know what she wants.” Chiddy walks over to stand in front of him, holding out the coat he must have grabbed off the rack as they were being thrown out, and Scott takes it with a begrudging hum of gratitude. 

If that isn’t the fucking crux of his problem. He’d thought he’d known what she wanted, but apparently he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I know she didn’t want this life anymore.” It's about the only thing he's sure of these days, and it's a little pathetic how weak his voice sounds as he admits it out loud. 

“Maybe,” Chiddy concedes, “Last year wasn’t exactly a great one for her and I think we were all blind to just how much she was struggling. But I’ve known Tessa a long time, almost as long as you, and she has _always_ wanted you in her life. Go talk to her.”

Scott hesitates for a moment, focusing on the pulsing throbs in his fingers and the bruise on his jaw that make him feel more alive than he has in a long time, before muttering a reply.

"I'll think about it." 

        

* * *

  

**_January 1, 2009_ **

**_McGill Campus, Montreal, Quebec_ **

****

This is a bad idea. A terrible, absolutely awful, no good idea.

Scott nearly turns back six separate times as he heads down the 401 towards Montreal - passing exit signs for Mississauga, Toronto, Oshawa, Belleville, Kingston, and Cornwall that nearly almost all convince him to get off the road, turn around, and head back home. 

He has no idea how he let Chiddy talk him into this. This horrible, stupid plan that can only end in disaster. 

All he knows is that once he’d left the bar three days ago he hadn’t been able to get the thought out of his head. Obsessively mulling it over at all hours of the day and night - working out the logistics, the route to get there, what possible outcome he could possibly be hoping for other than further heartbreak. 

He knows that Tessa doesn’t want to see him, and even if she does he has no idea what to say to her.

Sometimes he thinks he wants to yell - shout at her all the nasty things he's thought during the darkest hours of the nights, when the bed is impossibly cold and the smell of her shampoo lingering on the pillowcase won't leave him alone. Demand answers and force her to explain why she broke his heart.

Other times he imagines falling at her feet and begging her to come home and never leave him again. Kissing her in the afternoon sun as its rays turn her hair a warm mahogany. Swearing up and down Lake Ontario just how much he still wants her. Still  _loves_ her. 

In either scenario, he doesn’t picture her reacting well.

 

McGill's campus is a lot more intimidating than he expected. Where Western is small, beige, and welcoming, McGill is big, grey, and austere. Like a scary professor from a movie that you know is absolutely brilliant, but you could never grab a pint with.

He can't picture Tessa feeling at home here. In this severe, snowy, grim place. In a big city all alone. But maybe that's why she'd wanted to come. Maybe she prefers the anonymity that he's certain would be achievable on a campus like this in the heart of downtown. 

And that's when he realizes the fatal flaw in his plan. Standing there on the sidewalk next to a big columned stone building, shivering in his boots because he didn't think to bring a warmer coat. In the seven and a half hours he'd spent over-analyzing everything on the drive up there, he hadn't really thought about how he would find her. 

Montreal, a city with well over a million people, and among them he's trying to find a girl he's pretty sure doesn't want to be found. 

He briefly considers asking one of the few students walking past (another flaw - he'd forgotten its winter break and there's no guarantee she's even in the city) where the student dorms are and then hanging around outside them. But he quickly decides against it.

The last thing he needs is getting the cops called on him for loitering like a creepy stalker. He can just imagine how that phone call to Tessa would go: "Ma'am, we caught your husband lingering outside of your apartment. We've set his bail at $5,000. Would you like a restraining order?" 

It would be absolutely humiliating. 

His teeth clash together loudly as another shiver racks through his body, and he realizes he definitely can't find her if he turns into an icicle first. So he heads back towards Rue Sherbrooke to find some sort of coffee shop. Starbucks, Tim Horton's, anything will do. 

Maybe a sandwich, since his stomach has started to grumble rather insistently as well. He hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch thanks to a skyrocketing level of anxiety settling low in his gut, and, according to his watch, it's pushing dinnertime. 

The first place he finds is a hip little coffeehouse called the Humble Lion and the warmth that hits him the second he walks inside the door is almost enough to convince him never to leave again.

He orders a straight black coffee from a waitress who draws a little heart where the O in the middle of his name should be and some sort of fancy looking ham and cheese croissant thing and takes a seat by the window - watching the hoards of people walking past and the headlights slowly turning on as the sun begins to fade. 

A long drive, a depressingly disappointing end to his day, and the prospect of sleeping in his truck does nothing to lift his spirits. 

"Hey there. All alone?" 

A redhead in a navy blue sweater and a Quebecois accent takes the seat next to him, her matching braids swinging over her shoulders as she gives him a friendly smile, and Scott sighs. 

"Yes." His reply is blunt and clearly implies _go away_ , but she doesn't seem to get the message. 

"You should come sit with me and my friends," She gestures over her shoulder to the booth in the corner where three other girls are watching their interaction with pointed interest, one of them even having the nerve to wink at him. 

"No thanks. I'm happy here." 

"Are you sure? We're really nice, and we're going to a party later. You could come." She bats her eyelashes, and Scott almost feels sorry for her when he slides his glove off his left hand and holds it up to the light. 

"I'm actually waiting for my wife." 

The girl is clearly taken by surprise, if her wide eyes and O-shaped mouth are any indication, but all Scott can think about is how that's the first time he's spoken the words  _my wife_ out loud in months and how right it still feels, even now. 

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were single. Um... have a nice day." 

"You too." Scott replies absentmindedly, already turning back to the window as the girl scampers away back to her seat, and that's when he sees her.

Abandoning his coffee to get cold and leaving his sandwich half-eaten, Scott flies off his chair and pushes his way outside, staring at her as she waits patiently at the bus stop. 

 

 

Her hair is shorter – just above shoulder-length and more of her natural light brown color – and her fashionable red coat is new, but it’s definitely Tessa.

He’d know that laugh anywhere.

She’s talking to a tall, pretty, blonde girl, who is gesticulating so wildly as she talks that she nearly knocks her own baseball cap off her head, and Tessa laughs again as she reaches up and adjusts it for her.

His heart constricts painfully inside his chest.

It’s nice to know it still works.

She’s beautiful. _Beautiful_. And radiant and so, so quintessentially _Tessa_. He devours every inch of her with his eyes like the Israelites receiving manna from heaven. 

He wants to go to her. Wants to sweep her up in his arms. Kiss her until neither of them can breathe. Never let her go.

His foot inches forward, ready to step off the sidewalk and into oncoming traffic rather than take the time to go around and find a crosswalk, but something holds him back.

What could he say to her? What does he possibly have to offer?

Can he ask her to leave this impressive city – full of life and opportunity and new adventures – for a tiny trailer in a tiny town where people have nothing better to do all day than gossip about her? To a husband with a developing alcohol problem who’s at risk of getting permanently kicked out of school?

No.

As much as he wants her. As much as he misses her with every cell in his body. He can’t ask her to come home right now. It would be selfish of him.

And she’d said that she would come home eventually, when she was ready, so he has to trust that. He has to be patient.

He can be patient.

Instead of moving, he shoves his hands under his armpits and plants his feet – memorizing every piece of her that he can before the bus arrives and she and her friend get on it. 

He could almost swear she looks right at him when she sits down inside (his heart stuttering painfully - half terrified, half hopeful that she'll recognize him), but the moment is fleeting and she's quickly swept back up into her conversation with the other girl. 

The bus disappears around the corner just as fat snowflakes begin to fall, and Scott lets out a long breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. 

Chiddy was right – he did need to see her – needed to see that she was okay. Needed some sort of closure. And now that he has it he can force himself to move forward (not move on, he has no intention of doing that, and isn’t even sure it would be possible if he tried). Change his life so that he can be the kind of husband Tessa  _wants_ to come back to. 

He’ll go back to school, work on his degree, and when Tessa’s ready she’ll come home and he’ll be waiting for her with plans for a real future.

One full of promise.

One that will make her happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank you all so, so much for your responses to this story, and especially to the last few chapters. Your enthusiasm, encouragement, and yes - sometimes tears ;) - keeps me going. <3 Thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. The rest of Wide Eyed Dreamers covers their separation. There will be a separate posting for their happy epilogue. :)


	23. May 17, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years have passed and Tessa is kind of emotionally all over the place as she attempts to move on. 
> 
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big time jump here! But we're getting so close to the finale! I'm going to try to barrel through to the end as quick as I can.

** it’s the wrong kind of place (to be thinking of you) **

****

**_May 17, 2015_ **

**_Montreal, Quebec_ **

****

“I’m just saying, it’s your birthday and your third date. It’s the perfect opportunity to finally get laid.”

Tessa readjusts her cellphone on her shoulder as she waits in line to place her order. Strictly speaking, Café de Mercanti isn’t the most conveniently located place to get her morning coffee, but she loves it. Loves the homey brown brick interior and the boho-French vibe. And she especially loves the fact that they make the best pain au chocolat in miles.

And, well, today is her twenty-sixth birthday. She can indulge if she wants to.

“I know, Kait, I’m just not sure that I want to get laid," Her voice drops on the last two words, painfully aware of the crowded shop around her, "I haven’t known Peter that long and-“

“Tess, be honest, how long has it been since you’ve had sex?” Kaitlyn cuts in, and Tessa can tell that she's in her No Bullshit mode today, which never fails to make her feel defensive. 

“I’m not sure how that’s relevant.”

“It’s relevant because I think you’re being a little gun shy. Obviously you should do what makes you comfortable, but it shouldn’t be because you’re afraid to get back in the saddle.”

“You’ve been in Texas too long. Your western colloquialisms are emerging.” Tessa points out, attempting to change the subject, but it doesn't work for long. It never does with Kaitlyn, which is something she both loves and hates about her best friend. 

“I watched Magic Mike last night. Saddles are on my mind," Kaitlyn jokes, earning a snort from Tessa, before continuing - this time amping up her Texan accent on purpose to make Tessa laugh, "I’ll be home next week, darlin’, if you want to wait to celebrate until then, I’ll understand. We'll go out for cocktails and dancing and you can give up on Peter entirely.”

The resigned note in her voice makes Tessa stiffen. It's as if Kaitlyn has already written her off as a hopeless case. Accepted the fact that Tessa is too cowardly to have sex. And that just won't do.

“No, no. You’re right. I should give Peter a chance.”

"Yeehaw!" Kaitlyn exclaims in joyous surprise, "Take him back home and ride him ‘til morning!”

Tessa cringes and pulls the phone away from her head to avoid bursting an eardrum thanks to Kaitlyn's shout, making uncomfortable eye contact with an older lady in front of her who overhears the last few words of the other girl's enthusiastic suggestion.

“I don’t have to take him to _my_ home, do I?” Tessa asks as soon as Kaitlyn is done celebrating. The thought has her stopping in line while all the blood drains from her face as she tries to picture that man in her cute, clean, carefully decorated apartment.

In her room.

In her _bed_.

Suddenly that pain au chocolat doesn’t sound so appetizing.

“No, Tess," Her best friend interrupts her spiral into panic mode - pulling her back to the present, "You can go to his place. Your precious oasis is safe.”

She can hear Kaitlyn rolling her eyes through the phone, but she sighs in relief anyway. There hasn’t been a man in her bed since… well, in a very long time, and Tessa really isn’t prepared to change that anytime soon.

Even though sometimes her own reticence makes her angry. She's twenty-six years old, for Pete's sake (no pun intended). She should be comfortable flirting and dating and bringing men back to her apartment, instead of pacing back and forth across her kitchen (it's about the only thing she uses it for) and dwelling on how wrong it all feels.

Throwing up and calling Kaitlyn after something as simple as a kiss had been a real low point for her last fall, and the resulting guilt over her perceived adultery had eaten her alive for months. Nagging at her until she'd finally succumbed and filed for divorce at the beginning of April.

That had been a different kind of breakdown altogether that Kaitlyn, ignorant of the real cause, had nicknamed Tessa’s Dark Days because she had practically sealed herself up inside of her apartment with all the lights off and didn’t emerge for a full seventy-two hours.

It had been the second hardest decision she’d ever had to make in her life, after her decision to leave Ilderton in the first place, but she knew it was the right thing to do. After seven years apart it was probably time for one of them to make their separation official. To set each other finally free.

Who cares if signing the papers felt like a death warrant? It wasn’t about her.

It’s never about her.

Like most of her decisions in the past nineteen years, she'd done it for Scott. A wife who leaves him is one thing, but a wife who cheats on him is something else entirely and she refuses to do that to him, even if by now he probably would never know or care.

As if by magic or the will of her own mind, a young man in the corner of the shop stands up from his table with his back to her. From where she's standing his ruffled dark hair and medium build could be an exact replica of the man she can't seem to keep out of her thoughts for long. 

Her heart thuds painfully inside her chest with something that she refuses to call hope as she waits for him to turn around, only to deflate in disappointment when he has a button nose and a hint of a unibrow. 

_It's not him_. 

It's never him. 

To be honest, she had kind of hoped over the years that Scott would appear and ask her to go home with him. There had even been that New Year's day a year after she’d left when she swore she saw him for a second through the window of the bus she was riding in with Kaitlyn after a study session at the library. But as the years passed and he didn’t show and her life in Montreal kept growing more roots and becoming more successful, her promise to return home seemed less and less likely to come true. Especially because she’s successfully managed to convince herself that after so many years apart he _must_ have moved on.

He’d always been immensely popular, especially with the ladies, and she imagines they all probably descended as soon as they heard that she was no longer in the picture. Sometimes she even has nightmares where parades of girls from their high school walk past her with malicious smirks and take turns kissing him one by one. 

The idea of it is torture, but she wouldn’t blame him for having moved on, even if it still somehow breaks her heart (how it's even still beating at this point, she'll never know). 

It's exactly the reason she left in the first place, she reminds herself for the millionth time, to give him the opportunity to find out what makes him truly happy. 

"Tess? Earth to Tessa!" Kaitlyn's voice shakes her from her melancholy thoughts, and Tessa jolts and nearly drops the phone. 

"Sorry, Kait. Got a little distracted. Um..." It takes her a second to remember what they were talking about, but then it comes back to her. The issue of where the supposed consummation of her fledgling relationship with Peter is to take place. “How, uh, how do I know if he wants to take me home?”

Kaitlyn snorts, “Oh, Tess, it’ll be obvious. Men always are.”

"And you really think I should accept his offer if he does want  _that_?" 

"I support whatever YOU want to do, Tess, but yes. There's no pressure here. But I think he's a great option for your first foray back into the wonderful world of sexual pleasure." 

"Okay." 

"Okay?" 

"Yes," Tessa nods to herself, firming up her resolve, "I'll do it, if he offers." 

"Awesome! Have fun, be safe, and call me when you get home." 

Kaitlyn bids her farewell - probably anxious to return to her family that she'd flown all the way to Texas to visit for the week - and Tessa steps up to the counter to order her coffee. 

Sex. Sex with Peter.

Why not? 

She's (almost) not married anymore, and Scott's probably slept with dozens of girls by now. Right? 

_Wrong_ , a traitorous part of her brain thinks. The hopeless romantic that she can't seem to quash that fiercely holds onto the idea that Scott is still waiting for her. The part of her brain that looks and talks like him.

_RIGHT!_ She pushes back against it, squaring her shoulders and shoving the voice back into its box and out of sight.  

It's her turn to do something for herself. Something that can only be good for her in the long run. A chance at a normal, happy life like the kind she'd wanted for him. 

Full of stubborn defiance, she does order that pain au chocolat after all.  

 

\-------

 

Tessa feels warm and secure, the blanket pulled up high around her ears, as she lingers in that fuzzy world between sleep and waking. Content to bask in the comfortable mattress, the soft sheets, and the pleasant, heavy weight of an arm draped around her waist. 

Behind her she can feel a sturdy chest rising and falling against her back, and she snuggles further into the embrace without really meaning to, a content hum escaping between her lips. 

"Tess," He whispers, his voice low and raspy. Just the way she likes it. "It's Sunday. Don't wake up yet." 

"'m not." She mumbles, burrowing in further still until there's no space left between their bodies, his leg slotting between hers and his hand dipping underneath her (his) overly large t-shirt to cup her breast. 

"You are, and it's waking  _me_ up," He thrusts his hips forward slightly so that she can feel the bulge forming in his pajama pants, and a slow smile spreads across her face. 

"I want to wake up with you every day of my life," She whispers, the early morning making her more sentimental than she normally would be, and he props himself up on his elbow so that he can look down at her, his eyes still a little drowsy from the early hour. 

"I want the same thing, kiddo." 

Tessa tilts her chin up just as he lowers his own, meeting his lips for a tender kiss - lazy and sweet and deliciously domestic. 

" _Scott_ ," She sighs, moving her hand to the back of his neck and pulling him down for another kiss and then another.

"I love you, Tess." He murmurs against her mouth, and she is lost. 

 

Tessa wakes up with a start, shooting up off the mattress and blinking in confusion as her eyes adjust to the bedroom in front of her. White, stylish, pristine. A jarring contrast to the homey browns and greys and random bursts of color still lingering in her mind's eye from her dream. 

A dream that was really a memory. A quiet little moment in late March of 2007, when they'd only been living together for a couple of weeks and everything was still so marvelous and new. 

Tears come to her eyes, hot and unwanted, and Tessa forces herself out of bed and straight into the shower - rubbing vigorously at her eyeballs to prevent any tears from actually spilling over (a few break free anyway). 

She should have known taking a nap before her big date would be a terrible idea. 

_Stop it, stop it, stop it!_ She pounds at her eyes and then slaps a palm against the white tiles of her shower when that doesn't work to wash the images away. She can still feel him pressed against her, still feel the phantom touch of his lips against her own, and still hear his voice whispering  _I love you_ in her ear. 

"Why can't I be free of you!?" She cries out helplessly. Seven years. Seven years! She should be over this. She should have moved on, found love in other places, locked him safely away in the past. But still he haunts her - ghosts of him lurking around every corner, specters in her mind, shadows on her bed as she lays alone night after night. 

Suddenly it's like a switch is flipped and she is furious. A white hot rage that licks at her skin and motivates her to get out of the shower and choose the sexiest dress she owns to wear to dinner tonight. 

This can't be allowed to continue. 

She has to move on. 

She  _will_ move on. 

 

 

\-------

 

Peter is… plain. If she were to assign him a food, it would be a plain white bagel with no cream cheese or jam or anything on it. Bland and boring. 

In fact, he pretty much blends in with the restaurant he'd chosen. Some place with a barely-there attempt at French decor that charges an arm and a leg for appetizers that wouldn't feed an ant. 

But he’s also nice and polite and conventionally attractive – short blonde hair, grey eyes, straight white teeth – and there’s absolutely nothing that she can find explicitly _wrong_ with him. 

She keeps expecting (or hoping) for him to slip up. To forget to open her door (she's an independent woman who can get her own, but it's a  _test_ ), to be rude to the staff, to only talk about himself. But he doesn't. 

He’s even a pediatric surgeon who volunteers at the homeless shelter on his weekends off. It's not his fault that she finds herself yawning every five minutes. And if she did complain about him there’s probably a board of humanitarians somewhere who would have her head.

But he just isn’t… funny. Three courses into their five course dinner at Gourmandise and she hasn’t laughed once.

But that's fine.

_Laughter is overrated anyway._

 

He orders the chicken plain with a side of asparagus for his main course, because of course he does, and one solitary glass of sparkling water. Tessa orders the fanciest, most complicated dish on the menu and the best red wine they offer - just to prove a point to herself.

To prove that just because she’s on a date with him doesn’t mean she’s as bland as he is.

Looking around at the sterile, white interior and thinking of her similarly designed apartment, she could really use the reminder. 

 

He picks up the entire check and takes her hand as they walk out to his BMW, and when he asks her if she'd like to go to his place for a nightcap, she says yes. ( _Kaitlyn was right, he really did make it obvious_.) 

No matter how much she'd rather be at home in her own bed, cuddled up with an Audrey Hepburn movie and some Lindt chocolate, she has to do this.

She owes it to herself to  _try_. 

 

He leads her into his snazzy mid-sized townhouse with its black and white and stainless steel furniture. Completely devoid of emotion or anything that would show personality. And once again Tessa feels a little sensitive about the lack of color in her own home. 

Tomorrow she's going to go out and buy some throw pillows. Something in a bright color like red or turquoise. 

“Another glass of wine?” Peter asks, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her into his kitchen, and Tessa nods. 

She’s not going to get drunk, but a little more liquid courage couldn’t hurt. God knows she wouldn’t be able to go through with this stone cold sober, but… off like a band-aid right? She can’t stay celibate forever just because – well, just because. Especially not now that she’s almost officially a single woman (probably official – she expects a phone call from her ridiculously expensive lawyer any day now).

So she accepts the drink with a flirtatious smile and when he wishes her happy birthday and kisses her, she lets him.

When he takes her hand and leads her to his bedroom, she lets him.

And when her brain starts to catalog all of the ways he’s not like Scott, she tries to ignore it.

Her brain does it anyway.

His shoulders are too broad, his hair too short, his eyes too grey, his legs too long, his dick too small, his chest too hairy. The list goes on and on and on - distracting her from actually enjoying anything that he does.

Not that he does much. He enters her with little foreplay and comes quickly, without giving Tessa any time to really even become aroused, and its unpleasant and awkward and over far too soon and yet not soon enough at all.

“That was great, baby, you’re amazing.” He pants, rolling off of her and throwing the condom away in the trash can by his ridiculously large bed, and Tessa tries to ignore the way the weight of him doesn't disappear along with his body. 

It lingers.  _He_ lingers. His weight, his smell, the way his skin felt pressed against hers. And it's all too much. Too overwhelming. 

She wants to throw up.

Tessa can feel it. The ugly, hot bile clawing its way out of her chest, and she has to move. Now.

She can’t stay there in that bed, half-naked (he hadn't even bothered to remove her bra), and feeling like shit. Lying next to this man who's wrong in every single way.

She has to escape.

“Um, you were great too.”

Lie.

“I have to go see my friend tonight though.”

Lie.

“But I’ll call you.”

Lie.

She throws on her dress and collects her things, feeling grateful when he doesn't try to stop her from leaving, and hails a cab and heads home.

She knows without a doubt that she'll never see him again. 

 

Her home has never felt so simultaneously wonderful and awful before, and as she stumbles in through the door and drops her purse and keys onto the table she can't help but notice how absolutely devoid of any color it is.

Just like her life.

The thought sends her running to the bathroom to throw up all of the fancy food and wine she'd eaten. 

Her body is racked with guilt and remorse, and it won't stop shaking as evidence of the turmoil going on inside. The tremors causing her bones to rattle and her teeth to painfully clatter against each other.

Clenching her jaw as tightly as she can, Tessa turns the shower on as hot as she can physically stand it and rubs her skin raw with her loofa - tearing away any trace of the man whose bed she'd just left behind. 

She'd tried. She'd tried and it was an epic failure. But she won't cry.

She refuses to cry about this. 

It was just... just a  _thing_. A minor setback. She can handle it.

Wandering into her bedroom, her wet hair done up in a knot on top of her head, her skin tender, Tessa dons her favorite, fluffiest pajamas and heads back into the kitchen to find her phone. Kaitlyn will want a full report, and Tessa intends to give her one. 

A full report made up of complete bullshit about a pleasant, but boring night that won't be repeated. Her best friend does  _not_ need to be told about her rather unpleasant physical reaction. 

She finds her purse fallen sideways on the table, the contents spilling out over the mail she hadn't had time to open earlier, and underneath her tube of lipstick she notices a big manila envelope with  **Lloyd, Birkshire, and Sons** listed as the return address. 

_The divorce papers_. 

Swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat, Tessa carefully slides her thumb under the flap and opens it. 

The papers inside are wrinkled, as if someone balled them up and then attempted to smooth them back out, and the first thing Tessa notices is a handwritten bright green sticky note that she instantly recognizes is from Scott. 

Trembling, she reads the five simple words: "Is this a joke, T?" 

 

The lump in her throat grows three sizes as she flips to the last page of the documents, finding the line for his signature left glaringly blank. 

It's too much, and Tessa fumbles for her phone and dials the number before she even realizes what she's doing. Holding it up to her ear with baited breath as it rings, and rings, and rings. 

Right when she's given up hope, a voice on the other side answers. 

"Hello?" 

_Scott_.

He sounds groggy, and Tessa glances guiltily at the clock on the oven to see that it's already pushing midnight. 

"Hello?" He says again, sounding more coherent and a little bit annoyed, "Is anybody there?" 

Tessa wants to speak. Can feel the words at the tip of her tongue. 

_Scott, it's me._

_Scott, I miss you._

_Scott, I'm sorry._

In the end she says none of these things, just waits until he huffs in annoyance, muttering curses about prank calls, and hangs up the phone. 

The silence left in his wake is deafening, and with it Tessa falls to the floor in a heap - tears streaming down her cheeks as she blindly dials Kaitlyn's number. 

Her friend, bless her heart, picks up on the second ring. 

“I threw up.” Tessa admits before Kaitlyn even has a chance to say so much as hello, all of her plans to keep it a secret flying out the window in her need for comfort, and she can hear her friend sigh heavily through the phone. 

“Oh, Tess. Before or after?” Kaitlyn's voice is laced with sympathy, and Tessa briefly wonders what her friend must think of her. This twenty-six year old girl who loses all composure (and the contents of her stomach) at being touched by a man. 

“After.”

“Well, that’s an improvement! You made it through!” Her voice is bright and encouraging, and Tessa wishes desperately that she was in town so that they could be having this conversation over a pint of ice cream and a very large glass of wine. 

"It sucked, Kait. I shouldn't have to 'make it through' - it should be fun!" 

"I know, Tess. You're right. I'm sorry," Her voice drops lower again, sobering up and no longer attempting any fake joviality, "I really thought Peter would be the right casual start. But maybe you're just one of those people that needs to find the right man first. There's no shame in that." 

No, there's no shame in that. It's just... how can she possibly explain to Kaitlyn that she's pretty sure the right man is currently angry at being woken up in the middle of the night in a tiny town seven hundred kilometers away? 

"It's fine," She sighs instead, "I'll just wait and try again with a different guy someday."

"I'm sure he's out there for you, Tessa. You just have to be patient. After all, patience is a  _virtue_."

Tessa can't help the laugh that breaks free at Kaitlyn's bad joke. She must have heard that play on words a thousand times, but when it takes her off guard like that it can still make her giggle.

"Thanks, Kaitlyn. I'll see you next week." 

"Drinking and dancing and a REAL birthday celebration. Don't forget. And Tess?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday."  

"Thanks, Kait." 

Tessa turns off her phone and climbs into bed, turning the TV on to drown out the silence and switching between channels until she finds something innocuous that she can fall asleep to. 

She finally lands on MTV. They're playing old music videos tonight and an old black and white recording of Leslie Gore pops up, the familiar notes to  _It's My Party_ starting to play. Tessa winces and turns the TV back off.  

Right at that moment, the old song is a little too relateable. 

_It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to_   
_Cry if I want to, cry if I want to_   
_You would cry too if it happened to you..._

 


	24. January 8, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is... not happy. It was supposed to be short and simple and only a little angsty and then... well, it became worse. I actually made myself cry while writing this, which has never happened before, so you've been warned. 
> 
> Rating: M
> 
> Trigger warning: Minor character death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go yell at [jlhd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlhd/) for telling me to up the angst. She’s a cruel mistress. 
> 
> If you want a song to listen to during this chapter, I recommend "Did You Really Love Me" by Jeff Carl.

**the hardest part of letting go is admitting the grip**

****

**_January 8, 2016_ **

**_London, Ontario_ **

 

“Well, that concludes the last of the paperwork. I’d like to be the first to congratulate you, Mr. Moir, on your loan and wish you success with your business endeavors.”

Scott can’t help the wide, boyish grin that spreads across his face as he reaches out to shake the older man’s hand, “Thank you, Mr. Schefter. I won’t let you down.”

The loan officer bids him farewell and joyful fireworks start bursting inside Scott's chest. It's all he can do to keep himself from literally jumping and clicking his heels together as he leaves the posh bank.

He’s finally done it. Four years of undergraduate study, two to get his MBA, over seven years of working hard and saving up every dollar he earns, and now he’d finally gotten a loan to open up the skate shop he’s been dreaming about. He might as well be walking on clouds instead of concrete, with the way he feels as he walks down the busy London street towards the parking garage where he’d left his truck.

 _Everything’s coming up Moir_.

The wheels have been set in motion and now he can finally get moving. He’s already picked out the perfect building: 219 Consortium Ct. A simple grey cement place in the west London neighborhood of Westminster that’s just big enough to have a store front and space to make and sharpen skates. The perfect expansion to his (and his parent’s) business at the Ilderton Arena. And his Uncle Paul has agreed to join in as a partner and help out. It couldn’t be better.

The sun is shining, only a few clouds linger in the winter sky from the snow storm that blew through town the week before, and Scott mentally marks January eighth as an almost perfect day.

It hadn’t been easy, learning to live these past eight years alone, and he’d really only traded one addiction (alcohol) for another (good grades) as a way to cope with the pain that _still_ lingers in his heart, but it had all paid off. Channeling all that loneliness and sorrow into his education and career was the best decision that he could have ever made.

He’s a business owner now. Well, almost. And a graduate with two degrees. And recently a new homeowner (although the house in question needs about a million dollars’ worth of work and everyone keeps telling him he’s crazy for buying it).

There’s really only one thing that could make his life better, but it’s something he chooses not to think about anymore. Memories he keeps firmly locked up inside his brain and his heart and only lets himself take out on especially cold winter nights – flipping through the happy memories like a bittersweet photo album as he lies alone in bed.

He can’t help but wonder if Tess could see him now what she would think. It’s a question that lingers in the back of his mind any time he has to make a major decision, and – oddly enough – so far it’s proven to be pretty effective in leading him down a good path.

Shaking his head to clear it, Scott pulls out his phone and calls his mother. He doesn’t want to dwell on melancholy thoughts today of all days.

“Scott? How did it go at the bank?” His mom answers, bright and cheerful as ever. The optimism that he inherited from her evident in her voice. She’s been his biggest cheerleader in all this, and if he could give her a gold medal to show his appreciation, he would.

“I did it, Mom! They approved the loan. Moir’s Skate Shop is officially off the ground!”

He can hear her clapping her hands together in the background and his dad mumbling something too, giving away the fact that she’s put him on speaker, “That’s fantastic news, Scottie! You’re father and I are so proud of you.”

“Great job, son! We knew you could do it.” His dad chimes in, and Scott knows people are staring at him for grinning like a lunatic, but he can’t help it.   

“Thank you. It really means a lot to me to have your support.”

He climbs into the seat of his truck, turning on the ignition and preparing to head back to the trailer. Tallulah hasn’t been doing well lately and he doesn’t like leaving her alone longer than he has to.

Apparently his mother has other ideas.

“This calls for a celebration. Where are you right now? We should do dinner. Some place nice.”

“No, we don’t need to-“ Scott tries to cut her off, but she gives him a sharp tsk, which never fails to make him (or his brothers) immediately shut up.

“Nonsense. I’ll call your brothers. Schmokey’s BBQ alright? We’ll make it a big family affair. Uncle Paul and Aunt Carol too!”

Scott chuckles, recognizing the fact that there’s no way he’ll be able to persuade his mom that this isn’t necessary. And honestly, he doesn’t really want to. He’s looking forward to the chance to celebrate this achievement with his family.

“That sounds great, Mom, thanks.”

“Perfect. We’ll see you there at 5:30.”

 

 

“Scottie-boy!” Charlie slaps a hand on his back that sends shockwaves through Scott’s entire body, making him wince.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, sorry. Our baby brother’s a big time business man now. Gotta respect that,” Charlie shoots a wink at Danny, who sits at the end of the table with an arm around his wife, Tessa – or Essie, as everyone calls her now (thanks to him). Little Charlotte sits in the booster seat next to them, happily coloring away with the crayons the waitress had provided as soon as they sat down.

The day Danny had decided to tell the family about his new girlfriend, he’d shown up at Scott’s door and said, “Remember that time you told me to get my own Tessa? Well… I did.”

It had hurt. A lot, if Scott’s being honest. Couldn’t she have picked literally any other name in the phone book? But, of course, her name wasn't her choice, and now Scott feels nothing but happiness for his oldest brother.

Charlie takes a seat next to his girlfriend Nicole. The woman he’s been swearing up and down and left and right is just his girlfriend and that they don’t have any plans further than that, but who Scott’s pretty certain Charlie will propose to in the next couple of months.

The sight of his brothers so in love pokes at old bruises, but he brushes the pain aside. 

“Charlie, stop harassing your brother,” His dad says with a stern look before clearing his throat in that obnoxious way that means he’s about to give an embarrassing speech.

“We’re here tonight to celebrate Scott on his latest achievement. Scott, your mother and I are so proud of all the things you’ve accomplished. Your hard work. All the hours you’ve put in. We can’t wait to see you turn your hand to this newest venture. Cheers, son!”

A chorus of cheers rings out as everyone salutes him with their various glasses of soda and beer, even little Charlotte lifts her cup of chocolate milk with a dimpled smile, and Scott can feel his cheeks flushing even as he expresses his gratitude.

"Thanks, guys, that really means a lot." 

“Um… Not to step on your toes, bro,” Danny clears his throat, somewhat less obnoxiously than their father, but the family resemblance is still clear, “But Essie and I have something to announce too, and since we’re all together right now... We wanted to tell you that Charlotte’s going to have a baby brother.”

Another round of exclamations and cheers goes around the table, and Scott tries to join in, but there seems to be a lump in his throat that wasn’t there before.

He’s happy for Danny, he really is, but right at this moment it feels like a sucker punch to the stomach.

His parents, Danny, Charlie, Uncle Paul, Aunt Carol... everyone has their significant others with them. Everyone has somebody to share in their joys and successes. Everyone except him…

Bitterness seeps in through the seams of his carefully woven armor and he can feel it souring his expression. Only the awareness of his mom’s eyes trained on him prevents it from deepening into a true scowl.

He forces himself to smile and walk around the table to hug Danny and Essie.

“Congratulations you guys. I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks Scott. Sorry to kind of rain on your parade,” Danny says quietly, his brow furrowing a little at he watches Scott for any sign of irritation or offense, but Scott makes sure that all he finds there is happiness.

“You did no such thing. Tonight is a night for everyone to celebrate.”

        

 

By the time he gets back home his stomach is so full he can barely manage to blindly grab the stack of mail from his mailbox and get himself inside his trailer. He can’t be sure, but he’d bet that he and his brothers consumed at least half a cow tonight. Not to mention about a year’s supply of rolls and honey-butter. 

What is it about BBQ places that makes you forget all logic and cram food into your mouth like there’s no tomorrow?  Whatever it is, the aftertaste distinctly tastes of regret.

“It’s gonna be an early day at the gym tomorrow, Tally.” Scott mutters, patting the dog on the head. She barely manages to raise her head to acknowledge his return home, and Scott feels guilty for staying out so long.

He tosses everything in his arms onto the kitchen table without a second glance and sits down on the couch next to the dog. She doesn’t look so good. Normally she’d try to follow him around the second he walks in the door, but she isn’t moving.

“Are you sick?”

Tallulah’s had arthritis for a while and it’s been getting worse, but she’d actually maintained a lot of her energy for an old dog. Pushing twelve years old like she is, Scott knows she’s getting pretty old for a German Shepherd, he just… doesn’t want to admit that she’s been steadily declining for a while now.

Although sometimes, when her joints are especially achy and she can hardly get up to eat, Scott wonders if the only reason she’s lived this long is because she’s still waiting for Tessa to come home.

 _You and me both, girl_.

“Can you get up, Tally? Come eat something?” Her bowl is still full from when he’d left that morning, an occurrence that's become more and more common the past few days, and she’s started losing weight at a worrying pace.

Tallulah looks up at him with mournful eyes, trying to limp her way off the couch to make him happy, but he can see that it’s all she can do to mask the pain that she’s in.

“Come on, girl. I think we’re gonna have to head to the clinic tonight.”

Tallulah whines and drops her head, and Scott sits down on the floor next to her and pulls her into his lap.

“I know you hate it, but they can give you another shot. It’ll make you feel better, like last time.”

Grabbing an old throw blanket off the couch, the only one that still smells like Tessa (because Scott purposely washes it with soap that smells like vanilla and strawberries) and therefore is Tallulah’s favorite, and wraps the dog up inside it to help ward off the chill from the cold January night.

He carries her out to the car, keeping her in the front seat with him so that she can rest her head on his lap like she likes, and heads down the road to the 24/7 animal clinic in London.

 

“Back again, Scott?” One of the assistants, Stacy he thinks her name is, greets him with a cheery wave. Her smile falling somewhat when she sees him carrying Tallulah instead of letting her walk.

“Yeah. It’s getting worse. Can you give her another cortisone shot?”

Stacy looks at him, then looks at Tallulah, and there’s something in her expression that doesn’t sit well with him.

“Let me get Dr. Borden. Hang on.”

 

After an excruciating fifteen minutes spent alone in the waiting room, the doctor finally asks him to come on back and discuss her condition.

Tallulah tilts her head and whines a little to acknowledge his presence, and Scott walks straight over to her side, placing a gentle hand on her back.

“What’s going on? Did you give her the shot?”

Dr. Borden hesitates, and Scott knows with a sudden certainty that he doesn’t want to hear the words that are going to come out of his mouth.

"Honestly Scott, we could do the cortisone and send her home again, but the arthritis has gotten so bad… she’s in a lot of pain.”

Tears sting the back of his eyes and it feels like a tennis ball is lodged in his throat, but Scott forces himself to ask, “What are you saying, Doctor?”

“I think the kindest thing would be to put her down. It would save her from anymore suffering.”

"Okay," Scott rasps, his fingers tightening their hold for a moment in the strands of Tallulah's fur, "Can I have a minute alone with her?" 

"Of course. Take all the time you need." 

Scott waits until Dr. Borden has shut the door behind himself before dragging a chair over and sitting next to where Tallulah's head rests on the exam table.  

“It’s just me and you now, girl. I know I’m not the last person you wanted to see before you go, but I hope you don’t mind too much. Where they’re sending you… it’s a much better place. You won't hurt anymore, and it's full of all the doggie treats you can eat and lots of friends for you to play with. Where the sun never sets and you never have to stop playing fetch or chasing squirrels. A place that smells like vanilla and strawberries all the time. Tally," Scott pauses, swallowing around the pain, "I need you to know that it's not your fault Tessa left, it's mine. She loved you so, so much. I’m… I’m going to miss you. I love you, Tally-Girl.”

Scott pulls out his phone and pulls up a video he’d recorded off the TV screen a long time ago, during one of his more nostalgic nights, and presses play.

Seventeen year old Tessa’s grinning face starts laughing as she rambles on about something ridiculous, the shimmering waters of Lake Huron in the background. It was a video they’d taken at sunset during their tenth anniversary, and she’d never seemed happier.

Tallulah perks up instantly, as if the video has granted her new life, and Scott calls for the doctor to come back in.

“Can you do it while she watches this?”

“Yeah, we can.” He nods solemnly. “Do you want to leave the room?”

“No. No, I’ll stay with her.”

“It’s fast, Scott. An IV injection in one of her legs. It only takes a minute or two.”

Scott nods, not trusting himself to speak, and takes his place back by Tallulah’s side, pulling her partially into his arms and holding the phone out in front of her where she can easily see Tessa’s face. 

Holding her close, he closes his eyes, buries his face in her fur, and waits. 

        

The doctor was right. It only takes a minute before Tallulah’s eyes close for good and she’s at peace, and Scott breaks down. Succumbing to the great heaving sobs that rack through his body.

He can hear the door close as the doctor leaves him alone to grieve, and he’s grateful for the solitude. For the opportunity to hold Tallulah close one last time.

It takes him about ten minutes to compose himself and then he walks back out of the room to find Stacy waiting for him. She looks like she wants to give him a hug, and he knows he must look a mess – red-rimmed eyes and runny nose – but he stiffens and steps backwards.

"What happens now?” God, his voice is rough and grates like gravel through his throat. A voice he hasn’t heard himself use since the last time he lost someone so unexpectedly.

“That’s up to you. We can cremate her, or, if you want, you can bury her.”

“I’ll take her. I want to give her a burial. Do it right.” Scott replies with conviction. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. There’s a pet cemetery in Ilderton. I can take her there.”

“Tonight? Scott, the ground will be frozen!” Stacy's eyes are wide with shock and she tries to reach out to him again, but Scott brushes her off. 

“I can manage it.”

“Okay… well, if you’re sure, I’ll need you to sign some quick paperwork.”

He nods and stands at the desk filling out the form, trying not to notice the pitying glances Stacy keeps shooting his way. Instead focusing solely on getting out of the cursed building as fast as possible, And he does stay focused until a distant whimper catches his attention.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, a puppy someone brought in a couple days ago,” Stacy walks over to a cage by the wall and shows him the little German Shepherd inside – it’s fur a lighter beige color than Tallulah’s is… _was_. “A woman found him on the side of the road. Coyote attack. We’ll probably have to put him down. No one ever takes trauma dogs.”

She drops the cover back over the cage and takes his completed paperwork from him, but Scott can’t take his eyes off the cage.

“You…” He gulps, uncertain and almost unwilling to continue speaking, “You have to put him down? Are his injuries that bad?”

“No, he’ll make a full recovery, but he’ll probably have some psychological trauma and most people just don’t have the patience for that.”

"So he’ll be put down? That doesn’t seem right.” Scott clenches his jaw, gripping the pen in his hand with enough force to almost snap it in half. He’s not sure why he’s getting so worked up about it, only that the injustice of it seems _wrong_.

“It’s just the way it is, unfortunately.”

“I’ll take him.” The words are out of his mouth before he’s even formulated them in his brain, but he doesn’t regret it.

“Are you sure? You really want to commit to another dog right now after…” Stacy’s voice trails off as she half-heartedly gestures to the exam room, and Scott grits his teeth.

“Yes.” He can’t let the poor animal die, just because nobody wants it. He just _can’t_.

“Well, he has a few more days of recovery, but you should be able to take him home by the end of this week.”

“Great. Just call me and I’ll pick him up.”

He practically throws the pen down on the desk as he heads back into the room and carefully wraps Tallulah back up in the blanket and picks her up off the table.

Dr. Borden catches him just before he’s out the door, placing a kind hand on his shoulder, “I’m really sorry for your loss, Scott.”

Not trusting his voice, Scott merely nods and heads back to Ilderton.

 

The dirt in the cemetery _is_ nearly frozen, and it would probably be smarter to wait until he can get some help, but he wants to do it alone. And he knows it can’t wait.

He digs until his hands turn bloody and blistered and his shirt is soaked with sweat, until his back is aching and he’s pretty sure the muscles will never recover. And as he digs, he curses Tessa’s name.

For the first time in eight years, he allows himself to be angry at her. Truly, viciously, spitting angry. For leaving Tallulah behind without a second thought. For never coming home to see her. For forgetting about them as if they were never a family.

By the time he’s dug a hole a meter deep as the vet had recommended, he’s got tears streaming down his face and he’s so furious he could throw up or hit something in equal measure.

_Fuck you, Tessa. Fuck you and fuck Montreal and fuck the whole idea that leaving was the best option for any of us._

He leaves Tallulah in the blanket, wanting her to have something with her that she loved, even in death, and slowly starts piling the dirt on top of her. He'll order a plaque for her tomorrow. Something nice with her name written on it clearly so that she'll be remembered for a long time.

“Tally-Girl, you were the best dog and most loyal friend a man could have asked for. You got me through a lot of lonely nights and hard days, and I will always love you for that. Rest in peace now, girl.”

 

        

Somehow, Scott manages to make it home without crashing. Although how he could see through his tears he has no idea. He credits the fact that he knows Ilderton like the back of his hand for getting him home in one piece. 

The trailer is dark and cold and truly, horrifically empty now. Vacant in a way it never has been before. He’s always had Tallulah waiting to great him – every day for the last eight years, she’d kept him from being truly alone – and now…

Scott heads straight for the cupboard in the kitchen where he keeps a bottle of whiskey for emergencies, and if there ever was a time to crack it open – it’s now. The smart thing would probably be to call his parents, explain the situation, and then go over to their house so that he isn’t by himself, but he isn’t always smart, and he wants to be alone.

He’s barely taken a sip of his first glass, the familiar burn already taking up residence in his throat, when he notices the large manila envelope in the stack of mail that he’d missed before.

He freezes, the hand clenching the glass going white at the knuckles as he tries not to drop it, all the sirens in his head firing off.

_That can’t be what I think it is. Not tonight. Not now._

_Manila envelopes are common, it doesn’t mean anything._

_Don’t look at it._

But he has to look at it. He’s seen it now, and it won’t stop torturing him until he checks the return address and confirms whether or not it’s what he suspects it very well may be.

Flipping it over with his dirt-encrusted fingers, he can see that the front is addressed the same as it was the first time: Mr. Scott Moir, 14 Songbird Lane, Ilderton, Ontario. The big black logo for Lloyd, Birkshire, and Sons in the top left corner.

The nausea from his full stomach earlier returns in full force as Scott rips the envelope open and finds the exact thing he’d dreaded waiting for him inside. The words “Joint Complaint, Petition, or Declaration for Simplified Divorce” an all too familiar sight.

 _Why now?_ He thinks with a frustrated growl, _It’s been over eight months!_

The first time he’d received an envelope identical to this had been last April, and while at first he’d considered balling it up and tossing it directly into the garbage where it belonged, he’d changed his mind at the last second and sent it back with a note. Just a simple request to see if Tessa was really serious or not. He’d thought, when there had been nothing but radio silence from her end since then, that she’d dropped the issue.

Apparently he couldn’t have been more wrong.

She’s even gone to the trouble of filling everything out this time, even the lines that are probably supposed to be for him, and the sight of the last line, _we ask the court to dissolve our marriage and enforce the marital settlement agreement,_ makes him feel like his heart has been put through a blender.

A blender… Scott’s eyes, tired and stinging from all the crying, slowly shift to the side where the appliance rests on the counter, ready and waiting. Without taking a second to think too much about it, Scott picks up the papers and shoves them inside the machine – turning it on as high as it can go.

There’s a sweet satisfaction that he gets seeing the papers like that. All shredded to bits like they deserve. And he makes sure to grab every last piece and put them all inside the return envelope she’d so thoughtfully supplied, sealing it up and marching it directly out to his mailbox for the next day’s pick up.

He’ll never sign them. No matter how many times she sends the papers, he’ll send them back every time. He searches the sky until he finds Sirius, the dog star, and swears it like an oath.

“If you want a divorce, Tessa, you can damn well come get it yourself.”

 

He tosses his clothes in the hamper and takes a shower, spending a long time scrubbing at all the dirt and grass that sticks to him like flypaper, and when he gets out the anger still courses through him, dominating every thought and impulse.

It’s late and it’s stupid and he should really go to bed – he’s in no emotional state to go out tonight – but Scott grabs his coat and keys anyway and climbs back into his truck. He’s in serious need of a drink, and he doesn’t really feel like drinking alone.  

It’s been a long time – years - since he sought out this particular remedy, but if there’s ever an occasion to indulge in stupid decisions, it’s this one.

         

He doesn’t go to The King Edward. There’s too much of a risk of being seen there by people he knows (aka: he’ll _definitely_ be seen), and he would prefer it if word of this didn’t get back to his mom. Despite his success, he can still remember how concerned she was and how much he scared her during those bleak months in 2008, and he’d rather not put her through that again.

Instead he drives south to London, seeking out the joviality and anonymity he can get at Molly Bloom’s, and orders a double shot of whiskey the second he’s in the bar.

It’s a busy Friday night, despite how late it already is, and the bar is packed with patrons. A band in the corner plays some sort of cross between Irish folk and rock music, and Scott lets it all wash over him like a strong sedative.

Every time he pauses between drinks the anger threatens to turn into melancholy, so he continues ordering. Drowning out all the _whys_ that keep threatening to take over his thoughts and drown him.

The worst question of all, _is she doing this to move on_ keeps being followed by _does that mean she’s met somebody else_? and he can’t seem to stop himself from asking it over and over.

Maybe she’s never returned because she’s been with somebody else this whole time.

It’s almost crippling, the idea that he’s been waiting, and waiting, and waiting for her to fulfill her promise to come home, and discovering that maybe she never intended to after all. Maybe she’s been out there meeting other men, sleeping around, living an entirely different life.

He orders a Guinness (even though he knows not to mix alcohol) and the dark brew does nothing to lighten his dark thoughts, which only seem to be growing more and more bleak and foggy with each drink.

 _The bitter draught for bitter thoughts_ , he thinks with a mirthless chuckle. So much for his perfect day. It’s turned into an absolute shit-show of a night.

It’s while in that black hole of hurt, anger, jealousy, harrowing grief, and pain that a woman approaches him. Tall, slender, buxom, blonde, blue-eyes. These are the features that Scott mentally takes note of with minimal interest as she leans in close – pushing her breasts out further in her low-cut shirt in an obvious effort to entice him.

“I’m Hope. You look like you could use some company.”

Hope. Of-fucking-course her name is Hope. Why not? It fits in with the perfectly shitty way his night is going. The universe just had to put a woman in his path with the name as the very thing he’s trying desperately to quash.

But maybe the problem is that he’s been holding onto the wrong hope all this time.

Scott snorts at the shitty play on words and takes in the unashamed way her eyes rake up and down his body, and for the first time since 2004 he lets himself preen under the gaze of a different woman.

If Tessa can move on, forget him, probably sleep around, then why the hell has he been celibate for nearly a decade?

 _Hope_. Maybe he can fuck the hope out of himself.

He hasn’t flirted with anyone but Tessa since he was an awkward sixteen year old, but he figures it won’t take much – given her forwardness and the way she’s appraising his body – to convince her.

 

It doesn’t.

 

One conversation that barely lasts five minutes and he finds himself being practically dragged back to her apartment.

There’s little preamble. She offers him another drink, he accepts, and the next thing he knows she’s divesting him of his clothing and removing her own and leading him over to her bed.

It’s clear she’s putting in a solid effort, but Scott – drunk and grief-stricken as he is – can barely manage more than thrusting at an even rhythm.

She feels all wrong. Looks all wrong. And that combined with the liquor makes him sick, but he continues anyway, and when he comes – Tessa’s name pushing its way up through his throat and nearly making him gag with the effort to keep it in – he kind of hates himself.

 

Hope doesn’t ask him to stay and he doesn’t offer. A muttered _thanks_ between the two of them as he puts his clothes back on is all that’s said before he walks out of her door and back down the street towards the meter where he’d parked his truck.

It still has another hour left on it, but in the cold night, standing on a street corner, he really doesn’t feel like going back to the bar that's scheduled to close any minute. Most of the alcohol is out of his system now, so with a heavy sigh he climbs into his car and heads home.

As he approaches Ilderton, he surprises himself by turning off onto a different road than the one that leads to his empty trailer, instead pulling up to the Stewart farm. The big, dilapidated house that is now technically his staring down at him and adding to the list of _whys_ inside his head.

_Why did I buy this damn thing?_

He knows why. He knows, despite what he’d told his family about wanting something he could make his own, wanting a place he could work at and shape and mold, that he’d bought the building because Tessa had mentioned loving it as a kid. It was the last piece in the puzzle to providing her a good future to return home to.

A husband with a degree? Check.

A new business that he intends to make flourish? Check.

An actual house with bedrooms for their family to grow into someday? Check.

But none of that matters now.

Scott gets out of the truck and trudges up to the door, slipping his key inside the handle and opening it up into the main entrance area. The whole place is varying shades of grey thanks to the coats of dust, and the wallpaper hangs halfway off the walls like Dali's melting clocks. The floors are scuffed and creaky, with nails sticking out pell-mell that threaten tetanus should he take a wrong step, and the whole place reeks of neglect.

Where yesterday he saw potential, now he only sees decay, and he falls defeated onto his back on the floor in the middle of the living room – staring up at the spots on the ceiling that he really hopes doesn't turn out to be black mold.

He feels… exhausted and devastated and gross. The scent of Hope's musky perfume lingering on his skin, and he feels full of shame at what he’d done earlier – succumbing to basic physical impulses under the stupid influence of alcohol and rage. Never a good combination.

Now that the alcohol has burned through his body, it seems to have taken the rage with him, and he mostly just feels… sad.

Sad for himself, sad for Tallulah, sad for Tessa, sad for missed opportunities and their whole fucking messed up situation.

This house was probably the worst place for him to come tonight. Lying there surrounded by the ruins of a future he’ll probably never actually get to have, but, well, fuck him for being an idiot, but he still feels hopeful.

The pesky little shred of optimism that he can never seem to extinguish, despite his best efforts, still flickers with life inside his heart. A trait his parents had always praised him for, but feels pretty fucking inconvenient right now.

Because as he lies there in the dirt and grime – both on the floor and on his body – there’s a little part of his heart still beating out  _maybe, maybe, maybe_ …

The same drumline that’s been marching him forward for the past eight years that he’d thought was extinguished for good tonight, but is apparently more resilient than anything actually has a right to be.

 _There’s still a chance_ , that traitorous part of his brain tells him, _she could still come home_.

And fuck him if he doesn’t kind of believe it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really so, so sorry.


	25. February 16, 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York City Fashion Week.  
> February 9-16, 2017
> 
> Rating: G
> 
> Just a short one this time, not too angsty, to connect Wide Eyed Dreamers with the start of Coming Home to You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not what I asked for  
> Sometimes life just slips in through a back door  
> And carves out a person and makes you believe it's all true  
> And now I've got you  
> And you're not what I asked for  
> If I'm honest, I know I would give it all back  
> For a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two  
> For the girl that I knew  
> \- She Used to be Mine, Sara Bareilles

** most days i don't recognize me **

****

**_February 16, 2017_ **

**_New York City, USA_ **

****

“I’m just saying honey, you look tired. Beautiful! But like you’ve been worked to the bone this week,” Her mom’s face freezes in frame for a second before coming back to life, revealing her knitted brow and pursed lips.

Tessa rolls her eyes and goes back to trying to smooth all of her dyed dark-brown hair into a low bun, leaving just a few artfully chosen pieces of hair loose to frame her face. 

She had started FaceTiming her mother once a week a few years ago, after Jordan had threatened to resort to drastic measures if she didn’t put an end to their feud and reach out to Kate during the divorce (“She needs us right now, Tess. That’s more important than old hurts”). They never talk about anything too personal, like Tessa’s dating life or if she’ll ever come back home, but at least they talk. Although Tessa can’t help the simmering static of resentment that she still feels prickling underneath her skin every time she sees the signature short blonde hair and piercing eyes of her mother looking at her through the phone screen. Some scars never fully heal.

“It has been a lot of hard work, Mom, but it’s worth it. I’m learning so much here,” Tessa replies, readjusting where the phone is propped up on the counter and reaching for some pins to keep the hairstyle in place, "This is an amazing opportunity."

“I know you are, and I’m so proud of you for achieving so much, I just don’t want you to work yourself into the ground.”

“ _Work, work, fashion baby_ ,” Tessa sings a little off-key in an attempt to parody Lady Gaga, earning a smile and chuckle from her mother, “This is just what’s expected in this industry. Everyone else is working just as hard, if not harder, than I am.”

She reaches for more pins and sticks a few of them between her lips while finagling the first one between some strands of hair.  

“Well, if you say so, but I know nobody can work as hard as you do when you're focused, and I just hope that you’re taking care of yourself. Or, better yet, finding someone to take care of you.”

Tessa’s hands stop what they’re doing mid-motion as she glares down at the small screen where her mother is smiling a little too innocently.

“Don’t,” She warns, the bobby-pins she’d stuck between her lips wobbling dangerously and nearly falling out as she talks, and she removes them before they end up lost down the sink or something and shoves them haphazardly into the rest of the bun to hold it up.

“I’m just saying, Tessa. You're alone all the time and it's been so long-”

“I’m not alone, Mom," Tessa cuts her off before she can tread any further into dangerous territory, "I have Marie and Patch and Kaitlyn and all of my coworkers and friends. I don’t need a man. End of discussion.”

Her mom presses her lips together and jerks her head in a tight nod, acquiescing to Tessa’s demand, even though she can tell from Kate’s sour expression that she has a lot more that she wants to say on the matter, if Tessa would let her.

But it’s not a subject that Tessa wishes to discuss, even though yes, her apartment – once her beloved oasis – has started to feel sterile and cold now, refusing to warm up no matter how many brightly colored throw pillows she buys. And yes, she feels the sharp sting of loneliness every time she orders dinner for one. And yes, she still sometimes wakes up with her hand stretched out over the mattress, reaching for someone that isn't there and hasn't been for a very long time.

She refuses to discuss any of that though, firmly holding her ground even if sometimes talking to her mom makes her feel like an open book - vulnerable and seventeen again. It's an emotion that always sends her reeling when the face in the mirror doesn't match that girl anymore.  

“As long as you’re happy, Tessa.”

_Happy?_ Tessa thinks with a bitter little laugh, _what's happiness got to do with it?_ But there's no point in getting into the nuances of her complicated emotions with her mother. 

“I am happy. I promise. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll call you tomorrow night when I’m back in Montreal and tell you all about tonight's party.”

"You’d better! I want to know what everyone wears and all the gossip! But please make sure you get some sleep.”

“I promise to eavesdrop as much as I can, and I swear I’ll look less tired next time you see me,” Tessa chuckles and waves goodbye, hanging up the call.  

The truth is, she _is_ tired. Exhausted, even. But that’s to be expected at one of the biggest fashion events of the year.

" _Every year the women of New York leave the past behind and look forward to the future. This is known as Fashion Week."_ The familiar words of Carrie Bradshaw have been repeating themselves over and over in Tessa’s head throughout the last week as she rushes from one activity to the next, hardly having a single moment to stop and catch her breath or take a second for herself.

For the past seven days she’s done nothing but run around like a chicken with its head cut off in designer heels - trying to manage events, make appearances, schmooze important investors, network with the models that Marie hopes to hire for their next show, and oversee the final production details for the debut of their Autumn/Winter line.

It’s been absolute chaos.

Chaos that Tessa welcomes with both an almost fanatical level of enthusiasm and overwhelming relief. All of the pandemonium keeps her distracted from things like the fact that the day before they flew to New York City she’d received the divorce papers from Scott unsigned  _again_ , this time in a refrigerated shipping box and somehow encased in an elaborate mold of green jello. How he'd managed to get it inside the viridescent goo, she has no idea, but it had gone directly in the garbage. 

It was the latest in a long list of increasingly annoying, yet admitedly creative, ways that Scott had sent the papers back to her. From origami cranes (she’d handed all of them out to the kids in her building), to papers painted edge to edge with red nail polish (she’d been wondering where that bottle went for the last nine years - it had been her favorite shade), to a shoddy papier-mâché ice skate (that one had felt like a particularly low blow).

It makes her furious that he continues to refuse to sign the papers (doesn’t he know it’s for his own good!?), and the bill that her lawyers send her each time she's forced to resend them helps to stoke the fire of rage in her belly whenever it threatens to go out.

What she's trying to do is give them both the chance to move freely and unencumbered into the future, but he stubbornly refuses to let her do it - probably just to spite her. Everyone always said she was the stubborn one when they were growing up, but Scott can give her a run for her money when he's of a mind to.  

All of the hard work at the show also distracted her from a certain anniversary. The tenth anniversary of the day that she told Scott about the pregnancy and he had proposed.  _I promise to love you for the rest of my life_ , he'd said that night in that cold office at the rink, and she'd believed him. 

How things can change. 

Thankfully, Marie-France’s fashion show was held on February 14th and kept Tessa occupied for the entire day, because if she hadn’t had all of the models and catwalks and last-minute adjustments to worry about, she would have had time to think about that other Valentine's Day and promises that were made and broken, and she probably would have had a really inconvenient spiral into despondency. 

There had been a moment, though, when she was selecting jewelry for one of the models to wear with a fancy, funky eggplant colored top, that Tessa had come across a tray of silver rings - one of which looked eerily similar to her own wedding band. The wedding band currently gathering dust in the back of the drawer in her nightstand in her desolate apartment, and she had stared at it for a long time – frozen to the spot.

_Ten years_. Seven of them long, lonely, sad, angry, years spent tearing herself down and feeling stuck in the past, followed by two spent building herself into someone new. Someone who has never been married, has never experienced the grief of losing a child. Someone who is strong, poised, calculated, and made of iron. Someone who, most days, is fairly certain that she knows her place in the world and who she wants to be. Someone trying to focus on the future, instead of living in the past.

But just for that moment - staring at that simple silver ring - she could see a different Tessa. A Tessa who was twenty-seven years old and wearing high-waisted jeans and an over-sized Leafs t-shirt commandeered from its original owner and chasing little feet around a cute three bedroom house in Ilderton. A Tessa who wakes up to warm, sleepy kisses from her husband and goes to bed with soft, tender kisses from her children. An alternate timeline where everything had worked out the way it was supposed to and she had made other choices.  

Marie had noticed her stillness in the sea of mayhem and asked what was wrong, whispering “Tu vas bien, ma petite moteur?” ( _my little engine_ , a nickname she only ever called her by when they were alone) and Tessa was forced to shake herself out of her melancholy daydreams and dismissed her friend's concerns by making up a quick story on the spot about looking for something to wear with her own dress for the party on Friday.

The show must go one, as they say, no matter what memories might be threatening to creep back in, and Tessa had immediately refocused all of her efforts on making it to the end of the week and having a good time at the big party on the last night.

The big party that Tessa is currently preparing for in her quiet hotel bathroom. 

She finishes up applying her make-up and sets it with a spray before hanging her robe back up in the closet and putting on the tight, navy blue, velvet mini-dress she'd created specifically for that night. 

With a steadying breath and one last check in the mirror, smoothing down any imagined wrinkles and putting on her nude heels, Tessa curves her mouth into her best people-pleaser smile and heads out of the door. 

 

***

 

The freezing temperatures and persistent snow hadn’t stopped any of New York Fashion Week’s parties, nor had it dissuaded the A-list from coming out to support their designer friends, and nowhere is that more evident than at the Harper’s BAZAAR party. 

It’s _THE_ place to be tonight. The big shebang at the end of a successful week (especially for Marie and her company, Tessa's happy to report), and some of the biggest names in Hollywood are in attendance - looking to see and be seen by all of the most important people in the fashion world. Celebrities ranging from the Kardashians to Hilary Clinton to Karlie Kloss to Oprah.

Tessa herself had sat only a few chairs away from Taylor Swift at dinner (something she’d been internally freaking out about the entire time - trying hard not to make any lyric-based puns), and although their conversation was brief, Taylor had said that she’d seen and liked some of Tessa’s designs and in that instant validated everything Tessa had been working so hard for. 

Taylor had also asked if she had any plans to put out a line of her own, and Tessa had blushed and murmured something about _maybe, someday_ and practically giggled when Taylor had replied encouragingly and promised to keep an eye out for it. 

(The truth, the dream she keeps secret inside of her heart, is that she is hoping to start her own venture sometime that year if she can - with the goal of putting on her own show as soon as 2018 under her own brand).

Overall it had been an amazing evening full of unparalleled experiences, but now that dinner is over and the evening has transitioned into a big dance party - complete with some kerfuffle going on between Cardi B and Nicki Minaj - Tessa can feel the exhaustion creeping in. Seven straight days of work, work, work combined with copious amounts of champagne finally starting to take its toll and making her head hang heavy and her eyelids droop low.

She slips away from the crowd and wanders out onto the skyscraper patio, which is thankfully heated because otherwise she’d have to turn around and go right back inside. Her dress, with its off the shoulder sleeves and short skirt, might be the perfect outfit for a posh Manhattan party, but it doesn’t really suit a cold Manhattan night.  

Her champagne flute is still mostly full from the last time a waiter had brought around a tray and she sips on it without intent, thinking of that famous quote often misattributed to Dom Perignon, “Come quickly, I am tasting the stars!” Whether he said it or not, it's not wrong. It is damn good champagne, and it makes her feel floaty and reflective. 

The stars. Tessa looks up at them now (the few that are visible in Manhattan, that is) and starts mapping out the ones she knows. Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Orion, and, of course, Cassiopeia.

A sigh leaves her lips as she leans against the railing and stares at the familiar wonky W. It's barely visible due to the light pollution from the ever-busy city below, but she doesn’t need it to be visible to trace its shape with her fingers. She’s pretty sure she could draw Cassiopeia perfectly from memory at this point.

If she wasn't in New York she knows that she could find the star to the left of the constellation that Scott had named for them all those years ago, but as it is it’s absent now. Lost in the bright lights of the city that never sleeps.

_Better not to see it_ , Tessa decides, finishing off her glass and twisting the stem between her fingers, _it’s not mine anymore, anyway_. She'd given up any right to it when she first sent Scott the divorce papers, and even before then. 

When she’d graduated from school and gone to work for Marie-France, the idol who had become her boss had suggested that she adopt a nom de plume if she didn't want to use her legal name. So Tessa had decided to become  _Tessa McCormick_  and had been so ever since. No longer a Virtue, no longer a Moir. A new being entirely of her own creation. Cobbled together with bits and pieces necessary for survival and necessary for success in her chosen field. 

_Leave the past and look forward to the future_ , that’s what Carrie had said, and why not? It’s time. It’s more than time. Tessa Virtue, Tessa Moir - those girls don’t exist anymore. Stuffed into little boxes inside her soul that she keeps shut tight. Her transformation is complete now. She is Tessa McCormick, up and coming fashion designer, and she will play the part to perfection.

The sound of a door opening and closing catches her attention, and she turns to find a handsome man, tall, well-dressed, and with an attractive smile, walking up to her with an outstretched hand. It’s as if Tessa can feel the palpable shift in the air. The indefinable _something_ that tells her _now, now you’re ready_ ,  _a new door is opening,_  and she smiles and turns to face him fully - raising her empty glass in greeting.

“Miss McCormick? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Harry Chen.”

 

_To the future_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! We made it, guys! About 75,000 words more than I ever anticipated, but I hope you've enjoyed it (despite the angst!). If you're still here, thank you so much for sticking with it and joining me on this prequel journey. I hope you'll stick around for the happy epilogue. God knows these two have earned it. :)


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